


No Maps

by phoenixgal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Black Hermione Granger, Coming Out, Did I mention femslash?, Dildos, F/F, Femslash, First Love, Friendship, Heartbreak, Nymphadora Tonks Lives, POV Hermione Granger, Polyamory, Rare Pairings, Remus Lupin Lives, Weddings, metamours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 06:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13945188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixgal/pseuds/phoenixgal
Summary: Why can't you plan relationships the way you can plan your career or write a legal brief? And how could she possibly be a late bloomer? Hermione is always ahead in every way, thank you very much. A Hermione-centric coming out story.





	1. Pub Night

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: The opening chapter contains borderline dub/con between Ron and Hermione of the oh too common between men and women variety. It's not super graphic. Basically, she's not enthusiastically consenting. Despite clear good intentions, he's not looking for enthusiastic consent. If you'd like to skip it, you easily can skip ahead after they leave the pub.
> 
> Author's Overly Wordy Explanation of this Fic That You Should Skip if You Don't Care: I wanted to write this fic because I kinda love lengthy coming out, figuring out what you want in sex and relationship fics and there are soooo many good ones about male characters and not enough about female characters. I mean, how many long Drarry fics have you read where Harry spends ages figuring shit out before finally realizing it's Draco? How many great Wolfstars are there where they pine for each other before finally figuring out how to be together? Anyway, I want those about women too! There are some, of course. But I want so many more. I actually have nothing against Romione, but that's obviously not happening here. I repeat: THIS IS NOT A ROMIONE FIC. While Hermione will deal extensively with her relationship with Ron, that is simply not the ship in this fic. If that's what you're looking for, try elsewhere. I couldn't get happy thinking about any of the most common F/F ships for Hermione... But you know who didn't deserve to die? Yeah. And I could totally see Hermione falling for Tonks. Anyway, that's the primary ship here, but be prepared for it to not follow a straight line or have a happy ending (though a totally different happy ending might be in store).
> 
> ADDED NOTE: I love getting comments (all fic writers do). However, if you'd like to critique my Hermione, let me tell you, my fuse is short. Basically, things people say to me when I write men who experience angst/emotional turmoil or are unsure and imperfect are like, "AWWWW!" and "I JUST WANT TO WRAP HIM UP AND LOVE HIM!" But things people say to me when I write women who experience angst/emotional turmoil or are unsure and imperfect are like, "WHY IS SHE SUCH A BITCH?" and "WTF IS WRONG WITH HER?" And if you can't see how fucking sexist that is, please go away and comment on other people's fics instead.

Hermione pulled her red headband off and redid it, looking in the mirror for stray hairs to pull back. She made a face as she evaluated her hair.

“I know a good hair straightening spell if you need one,” a voice behind her said. Hermione turned, feeling self-conscious that anyone had seen her looking in the mirror. It was embarrassing to not know what to do with her hair and a little embarrassing to be caught caring about it in the first place.

Padma Patil was standing by the stalls, looking casually perfect. She had her hair cropped short in a sort of pixie cut, which was how Hermione knew immediately it wasn't her twin sister, who guarded her long locks closely. Padma was in muggle trousers with actual suspenders. She looked so put together and beautiful, Hermione thought. Other witches seemed to know just how to pull off a daring look. Hermione didn't think she had any looks, much less daring ones.

“I think it's resistant to magic now,” Hermione said, flattening her hair again.

“It's wild and...” Padma suddenly looked shy, “beautiful. You shouldn't do a spell on it anyway.”

Hermione turned back to the mirror and sighed. She didn't feel beautiful. She had lost track of how many times she had cast the same anti-frizz spell that day.

“Are you… here with anyone?” Padma asked.

“Harry and Ron,” she said with a shrug. “I should go back.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Nice to run into you,” Padma said.

Hermione steeled herself before heading back out into the loud atmosphere at the Blue Dragon. This was their place for pub night lately. It was slightly out of the way, a few blocks off Diagon, and they didn't seem to draw so much attention together. Tonight it was just the three of them. Ginny was at a Harpies thing. George hadn't joined them. Luna was visiting a magical creatures preserve. It seemed like everyone had something. The three of them just had work and pub night.

“Get back out here, Hermione!” Ron enthused. “My girlfriend,” he said to Harry with a grin.

She tried hard not to grimace. He was halfway to drunk, which was not a surprise. He had almost no tolerance. Harry wasn't much better, but he usually stopped early, but Ron seemed to enjoy a sort of out of control feeling at the end of the week.

“You all right?” Harry asked.

“Fine,” she said.

“I think I have to call it a night,” Harry said. “Can you believe I have to go in for even more training tomorrow?”

“Braithwaite said it was a reward,” Ron said.

“Yes, I work my arse to death and I'm rewarded with more work,” Harry griped.

“It's because they want to promote you,” Hermione said reasonably.

Harry downed the last of his pint and let it thud onto the table. “Then I'd best sober up before tomorrow morning so I can make a good impression.”

“And get handed more special weekend opportunities,” Ron teased.

They didn't stay long after Harry left. Ron half stumbled out of the pub less than half an hour later and Hermione dutifully held his arm and steadied him as they headed toward their tiny flat on Quizzick Alley over an old apothecary.

By the time they were up the spiral stairs and in their little rooms, Hermione was ready to get to sleep. She thought about the stack of old cases she had brought through the Floo that afternoon before they'd headed to the pub. She had also told herself she would be finished reading through old tax laws and she wasn't even close.

“My girlfriend,” Ron said, pulling her close before they even made it to the bedroom.

“Yes, I am,” Hermione assured him.

“Don't know how I got so lucky,” Ron said, pressing his face to her neck and giving her a sloppy kiss.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I think I'm ready for sleep.”

“That means the bed, right?”

“Easier than sleeping standing here.”

“I'm ready for bed too,” Ron said. He reached behind her and unlatched her bra with one hand. “Come to bed then.”

Hermione sighed.

“Mione, Mione, my Hermione,” Ron said, almost tripping over his shoes as he toed out of them and then falling on the bed. He tugged her skirt to get her to follow and the top seam of the loose fabric ripped slightly.

“Ron,” she complained.

“I'll fix that,” he promised. “I am a powerful wizard you know.”

She unzipped the skirt and slid it off, then undid her blouse and went to grab something to sleep in, sliding her bra off as well. Before she made it to the wardrobe, Ron was back up, his hands at her breasts, fingers rubbing insistently at her nipples. “Come on,” he urged.

For a moment, she thought about arguing, but then she felt silly. Weren't they living together? Didn't he love her? Wasn't this how things were supposed to be?

Ron undressed, his shirt catching on his head slightly so that she pulled it off him fondly and he laughed and kissed her. It was a sloppy, slightly drunk kiss, tasting of firewhiskey and the peanuts that had been on the tables at the pub. He smelled like the day was all still on him, sweaty from whatever he'd done auror training all day.

As soon as he had her on the bed, he had her underpants off and his face buried against her, fingers gripping her thigh and his tongue licking hard from her opening to her clit.

It was such a point of pride for him that he could make her orgasm. The first time he had done it, she had been nearly as surprised as him. It was early in their fumblings just after the war. He had gotten off dozens of times and she'd been strangely fascinated with how easy it was for him to find release, his come coating her hand or her leg or his own belly with sticky, whitish liquid. One day, as he rubbed her, she wasn't thinking about much of anything at all, except maybe that she felt safe there with him, and what a relief it was to finally be safe, when she had felt a flood of warm wetness and everything had seized up. She had gasped and cried out and Ron had said with wide eyes, “Blimey, your whole cunny just squeezed.” They had laughed and she had felt blissed out and happy.

It hadn't happened nearly as many times since then as Ron had thought.

It wasn't about to happen then either. She knew it wasn't and she hated that. Shouldn't she feel lucky to have a boyfriend who wanted her to feel good?

For a few minutes, Hermione laid on the bed, trying to enjoy the wet feel of his mouth on her, but she was too focused on distractions to ever really enjoy it. His fingers were digging into her uncomfortably. There was a funny spot he kept hitting all wrong. The bedcovers were askew under her and she desperately wanted to adjust them.

“Come on,” she said after awhile, letting out a few encouraging, breathy noises.

Without much warning, he reared up and then he was inside her, a familiar intrusion at this point, as were his words in her ear.

“I love you so bloody much. You're so sexy. You're so good.” It was only half coherent.

After, Ron passed out naked in the bed. Once she was sure he was fully asleep, Hermione rose and washed off in the bathroom then picked up those case files and laid them on the bedside table. With her wand lit, she began catching up on her reading.


	2. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being a female centric fic about an unshipped ship, I am irrationally happy with five whole kudos and two comments.

The Floo was locked, so she apparated to the door. She felt so foolish, but she knocked, rapping at the heavy wood and listening as the thud sounded. She cast a warming charm as she waited on the stoop.

Finally, Harry came to the door and opened it, wearing pajama bottoms and a too big T-shirt. Hermione wondered sometimes if living for so long without fitting clothes meant he genuinely didn't understand how things should fit.

“Oh,” he said. “Hermione. Are you… Did you…? Are you all right? Come in.”

She went in, going past him, not caring that she probably woke him up. “You knew he was going to ask.” It wasn't a question. There was something about the way Harry had spoke. She sunk down onto his sofa.

“Yeah. He might have shown me the ring.” Harry stood across from her and rubbed his hand over his face and back into his hair, which was sticking up even more than usual. “I… er… do you want to talk about it? I take it you didn't, er… say yes.”

Hermione felt her eyes tear up and tried to hold back the tide. “I didn't say anything. I just had to get out of there.”

“So, Ron doesn't know where you've gone? Bugger. Maybe you could send an owl…?” Harry shook his head. “No, I'll send him an owl and say you're all right.” He looked at her and seemed to rethink. “Or, you're not all right. I'll say you're safe and you… need some space?”

Hermione nodded, grateful for anyone to be making any kind of decisions for her.

“I'll send Athena. She's fast; she'll find him straightaway.” He left for the back of the house, leaving Hermione alone in the living room. 

Harry had redecorated over the last year or so, but even with smart muggle furniture, it still felt formal and a little stiff. Hermione wiped her eyes and told herself she wouldn't cry, except it was obvious she was crying. But she didn't have a right to cry. She was the one who had run off, leaving Ron holding out a ring and crushing all his hopes. She was the one who had ruined what they had.

She heard noises from the steps and wondered how Harry had gotten upstairs without her realizing it. Had she really wallowed for so long and deep she had missed him coming back? But then she heard a voice that was definitely not Harry's.

“Are you coming back to bed, Harry?” the voice asked.

Neville Longbottom, wearing nothing but a pair of cut off muggle track bottoms, the defined muscles in his chest bared and the slight pudge of his belly showing, emerged from the hallway. She sat frozen, just looking at him, feeling caught, which was funny because really, it was him who was caught.

“Hermione, I actually sent a patronus. Ron shouldn't worry. But I want to send Athena with a longer note. Tell me, will you be...” Harry's voice filtered from the kitchen and then into the parlour. “Oh,” he said, realizing Neville was standing there.

“Well, this is awkward,” Neville announced with an air of nonchalance. “I'll leave you two to talk. I have no idea what's happened, but I hope you're all right, Hermione. Harry, I'll just be...” He waved his hand vaguely and Harry nodded.

She felt like her head was going to break. “Harry, are you and Neville…?” she began as soon as he was safely up the steps.

Harry sat down on the other end of the sofa. “Er… yes. It started at Hogwarts. Sort of. Just some snogging. Very unexpected snogging a few times. After the battle, we talked and he came out to me, that he's gay.”

Hermione felt her eyes widen. “But… Ginny. Are you…?”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. “Ginny knows. She's fine with it. She… er… this is embarrassing. Last time she was here, all three of us...” Harry blushed furiously.

“Oh,” Hermione said, and she felt herself blushing too.

“I'm sorry, 'Mione,” Harry said. “I haven't told anyone. Well, except for Remus. I would have told you eventually. I've just been trying to sort it out.” He ran his hand through his hair again, resulting in it sticking out a different way. She felt a sudden surge of love for him. “I'm sorry, I'm making this about me. You still haven't told me what happened.”

It had actually helped, she thought, having a distraction like realizing Harry and Neville were… whatever they were doing. She didn't have to think so much about what had happened between her and Ron.

“It should have all been very romantic. It was at first. He took me to a fancy dinner on Diagon Alley and then to that place on Wyvern's Way where they do the dancing. The instruments all played themselves and they do old fashioned reels. There was an ancient couple there who ran the place. It was actually very sweet. I was laughing when we left. We went for a walk and apparated to a park and...” She paused. “It was a gorgeous garden. He made the flowers bloom out of season. And at first I was laughing because, well, it's been awhile since we had such a lovely time out. But then he went down on his knee and… and… I just had to get out of there.”

She chanced looking up at Harry. He was sitting there, slightly bleary eyed, looking concerned but not angry or judgmental. She let out of a sigh.

“Did you just panic?”

“Yes,” she said. “But also… Harry… I can't go back. I can't marry him. It just isn't right.”

“Oh, Hermione.”

“You think I'm horrid.”

“No! Of course not. I just feel bad for both of you. I know you love each other and I've been trying to ignore… Yes, well.”

“I've been trying to ignore it too,” Hermione whispered. The sense that she and Ron were not right together had been growing for awhile for her. “I don't know that Ron feels it though. He… he was so determined.”

Harry literally tugged at a bit of his hair. “Fuck. So this is it, is it? You're done. It's not just turning down marriage.”

“Yes. I can't… I can't go back to him.” She felt the tears begin to trickle down again.

“What do you need? I can… er… I have a good bottle of Ogden's in the pantry. Or I can listen. Or Neville and I can distract you… somehow. I think we have Cluedo here somewhere.”

Hermione choked on her tears. “I… I think I just want to sleep.”

“I have a sleeping drought. It should still be fresh.”

“Yes, please.”

Harry edged across the sofa and wrapped her up in a hug. “You can stay here as long as you like. You know I have too much room. Please say you'll stay, at least for a bit.”

She nodded and felt grateful for Harry. “Yes, all right. I can stay in what limited room you have here.”

“Exactly! I need to fill more of the bedrooms.”

She snorted. “You'll have to have a lot of children if you think you can fill this house.”

“Or have a lot of lovers,” Harry suggested.

“Oh,” Hermione said.

“Or open a bed and breakfast. Don't worry, Hermione. I'm just taking the piss. Besides, two lovers seems to be plenty so far.”


	3. The Quidditch Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ginny comes off rather horrible in this. Sorry, Ginny fans. I love her to death, but everyone gets a mulligan on one or two bad drunken mistakes in their youth.

Hermione couldn't admit to herself that she was dreading the end of the quidditch season party because if she did, she knew she'd never be able to make herself go and seeing as she was being mature and well-adjusted and proving just how happy she was, not to mention that it was being held in the house she called home, that could have been a disaster. That the party had to happen wasn't in question. It was Harpies tradition that the newest member of the team threw the blowout that ended the season, whether it had been a winning or a losing one. Ginny had thanked them all profusely for putting up with it, but Hermione knew she was over the moon to show off.

Still, she could admit to herself, in the private reaches of her mind, that she was not looking forward to a number of specific things about the party. As she watched the scene unfold across the downstairs of Grimmauld Place, she could see all of them at work.

Ginny's Harpies teammates were loud and raucous, drinking a wild mix of muggle and wizarding spirits. Harry's Ministry friends bloviated about politics and news, insisting on explaining her own job to her in an overly exaggerated way as they drank. Harry and Neville were probably the nicest people at the affair, but they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even have time for Ginny, much less her. Ginny was beyond drunk, cheerfully taking in the accolades of a solid first season off the bench. Worst of all, Ron and Hannah were nauseatingly nice. They were nice to her, nice to each other, just too nice.

Trying to calculate how long she had to stay to show that she really had partied and had a good time, Hermione wandered out to the garden patio and planted herself under the stars on one of the patio chairs that had a cushion. From there, she sipped her firewhisky, chatted, and observed.

For awhile, she talked to Ron and Seamus. That was fine. Seamus had washed out of a Ministry job, but wasn't at all bitter about it and was trying to figure out what to do next. “Something outdoors instead of under London,” he said with good humor.

Padma had smiled at her and asked about how it was living in such an infamous old wizarding home like Grimmauld, but before they could really chat at all, Ginny and Alicia had come through completely pissed and knocked half a pitcher of pumpkin juice on Hermione as they passed. She'd run off to clean it, feeling a mix of annoyed and relieved to get out of small talk.

As everyone shifted, going in and out, mingling and talking and setting the strangest music charms, Hermione ended up in the shadows at the edge of everything, her firewhisky empty, just watching. No one seemed to notice her. The party was finally starting to calm down. People had paired off or had so much to drink that they were passed out or had settled into conversations.

Ginny had come outside at some point. Ron and Hannah sat on the bench, his arm around her, fiddling with her perfectly straight blonde hair and casually running a finger along her pale arm every now and then. Several of the Harpies and a few Canons and Puddlemere players had transfigured a seat cushion into a sort of squishy outdoor sofa and were lounging on it along with some of their old school friends.

“Okay okay,” Parvati said to Ginny. “Out with it, yeah? I want to hear you dish the dirt about those two.”

“My lips are sealed,” Ginny laughed.

“I cannot believe Harry has managed to keep it out of the papers,” Blaise said, his voice low and droll. Hermione wondered who had invited him. “Well done.”

“It's been in the Quibbler,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Harry went to the Prophet with a number of exclusive deals a year ago. They're getting our wedding photos next year, for example. But in exchange, they had to back off for nearly the next decade. They thought they'd be getting all the juicy bits so the joke was definitely on them.”

Hermione had been the one to suggest how to manage the Prophet. She was still proud of having pulled such a bait and switch on them, and she knew Harry and Neville were grateful. She thought Ginny just didn't care what anyone else thought, which was something she envied a little about her.

“Then dish on Hermione,” said one of the Harpies, someone Hermione didn't recognize. She realized with a jolt that she was in the shadows, behind everyone else. Anyone who had known she was there to start had forgotten.

“What about her?” Ron asked, sounding both interested and annoyed.

“Just… what's her deal, yeah?” Hermione knew that voice. It belonged to Alicia, who played chaser with Ginny.

Ginny's voice was thick with alcohol. “No deal.” She laughed a bubbly, slightly drunk laugh. “None ever. Merlin, I think there's something wrong with her.”

“Oh, Ginny, don't,” someone said, Hermione thought it might have been Padma.

“She's like a cold fish,” Ginny went on. “All work and no sex makes...”

Hermione stood up before she even really knew what she was doing, her feet carrying her out of the garden and back into the house. There was no way to get out in the back. She had set the wards to not allow apparition herself. The garden butted up against the muggle houses and the charms didn't work well with having a back gate into the alley. So back through the party it was.

“Hermione...” Neville said, seeing her storm past. “Are you all right?”

It was the stupidest thing, but she flashed back to primary school, the girls in her form calling her beaver tooth and know-it-all and racist names. One day she had a spurt of accidental magic that had resulted in their school bag straps all breaking at once and falling to the ground with a thud, scattering their books and make up.

But she wouldn't cry because that would be absurd.

“I'm fine.” She pushed past a flustered looking Neville and out the front door.

It was Ron who caught her, grabbing her wrist as she went down the front steps in front of Grimmauld Place.

“Let go of me!” she snapped, jerking her hand back.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back. “Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I'm fine, Ron,” she said, knowing that her words sounded sharp.

“I know you can take care of yourself.” He looked down, sad. “Ginny looked pretty upset. I think she's sorry. She was drunk.”

“Yes, I know that,” Hermione said.

“I don't think there's anything wrong with you,” Ron said after a pause, obviously afraid she was going to snap at him again. He didn't meet her eyes.

She tried to hold back. “Go back to Hannah. Girls don't like their blokes running off to rescue their ex-girlfriends.”

“She… she told me to go,” Ron said. “She… er...”

“Just go on back, Ron. I'm fine.”

She walked away from Grimmauld Place, trying to exude a sense of purpose that she absolutely did not feel. There were all night cafes, she supposed, but there weren't all night libraries or bookshops, which was really a shame. She ended up apparating back to her childhood neighborhood and walking around in the misty evening. Her parents didn't live there anymore, but she couldn't very well apparate all the way to Australia. 

She had never really felt at home there. It was strange to realize that in some ways she didn't feel all the way at home in the wizarding world these days either, as if her breakup with Ron almost two years before had exiled her from part of her rightful place.

She loved her job at the Ministry, and it was especially nice that she got to work in non-human relations, though she thought she'd be transferred to property soon. She was studying to get her wizarding solicitor's license, which she thought she'd have in the next year or so, and which would open up a lot of career opportunities. She got along well with the House Elf task force and she had a strange love of the Goblin liaison, a grumpy goblin named Greemly. She liked being around Harry and Neville and usually Ginny, though Ginny was away much of the time and she wasn't feeling very favorably toward her at the moment, but Harry and Neville were always nice.

Still, something was missing from her life and she didn't know what it was or how to get it. Harry had tried fixing her up on dates, but the two she'd gone on had been uncomfortable, stiff disasters. They had felt so much like work. And when she thought about things going farther, she got the same dread she had felt when she had pictured spending the rest of her life with Ron, a dread that made her refuse offers of a second date and beg Harry and Neville not to set her up again.

By the time she got home, she thought she had managed to slip in unnoticed, but there was a rap at her top floor bedroom just after she got into bed.

“May I come in?” Harry asked.

She could see he was sleepy and spent from the party, but she sighed and shrugged. “I'm fine.”

“Ginny's pretty upset with herself. Not that that makes it all right. I just thought you should know.”

Hermione nodded. The sting of Ginny's words had gone and she was just left with a sort of ache.

“Do you think there's something wrong with me?” she asked.

“What? No!” Harry went to the edge of her bed and gestured. When she nodded, he sat. “Why would you say that?”

She shook her head, suddenly unsure of herself. It was such a strange feeling. She had spent her whole life sure that her childhood bullies were wrong, that she was smart enough, that her causes were right and just. She never let anything stop her. And now, here she was, a proper adult, wallowing in bed in the middle of the night over something as trivial as romance.

“I...” Harry paused, obviously torn about saying something.

“Whatever it is, go ahead.”

“Ron wondered if you might be… well, a bit like Charlie.”

Hermione didn't know what that meant. “What about Charlie?”

“Just that he isn't interested in dating or romance. Ron said that Molly used to worry over it a lot, especially right after the war. But Charlie said he'd never marry. He just doesn't want to and he doesn't think he'll ever be with anyone like that but that he's perfectly happy with his dragons. Ron said he figured maybe… er… maybe it was a bit like that for you. And if it is, that's perfectly all right! I don't think there's anything wrong with that. But I could see where… well, we are at that age where people are starting to get married and everyone's pairing off and I suppose there's a good bit of pressure. I know I'm happy but I still feel pressure to… well, be a bit more normal, you know?”

“Oh.” Hermione thought about that for a moment. The idea that some people might just not be interested in sex or romance and that it might be perfectly normal was a new one. For a fleeting moment, it sounded very appealing. “No, I don't think so. I think I'd like to… well, I'd like to fall in love and all that. I just don't know what it would be like or how it would happen. I thought I was in love with Ron, but then it seemed it was just a schoolgirl fancy and not anything real. But then I don't know what real would be like or how to figure out what I want really.” She curled her knees up to her chest.

“I love you,” Harry said. He reached out to hug her and she laughed a little at the clumsiness of his embrace.

“You're still a little drunk, too, aren't you?”

“Maybe a little,” he said. “Parties are wonderful in their way, but also a bit, er… much.”

They shifted so that he was almost in bed next to her. She leaned against his chest and sighed, remembering a time, years ago now, that they had both woken from nightmares and ended up crying to each other in the night in a tent in the middle of the forest, feeling bleak and alone.

“Fuck, I'm tired,” Harry said, but he didn't get up. Instead, he slid further down into the bed.

Hermione sighed and let him. “This isn't weird, is it?”

“Nah. Everyone can fall asleep platonically after a drunken party,” Harry said. “And I can't go back to my bed anyway. Neville and Ginny are having it out about… well… about you. Mostly it's just Ginny being weepy. Neville has more patience with her than I do right now.”

“Oh, Circe.”

“You know, I'm no expert, but I think you just have to being willing to take a risk, Hermione. When you went out when that bloke from Nev's work, you made such a list of all the things you wanted and all the things you foresaw for your life and all your… what did you call them?”

“Dealbreakers.” It had been right after her breakup with Ron. It had seemed like she could plan her way to the right sort of relationship.

“Yeah. But sex isn't like that. I didn't think I'd enjoy… well…” Hermione could almost feel his blush even though she couldn't see his face. “Some of the things I enjoy now. It took me and Nev just playing around and getting it wrong sometimes. Me and Gin too. It's not… Sex isn't straightforward. Straight. Ha. Maybe you should try birds instead.”

Hermione sighed. She had considered it, vaguely. She just didn't know what she wanted.

“You're always ahead on everything. Maybe you'll be a late bloomer for once.”

Harry's voice was now heavy and she realized they were going to fall asleep together. There was something so delightful about that. It was the one thing she missed most from her time living with Ron. She curled into his arm and smelled the firewhisky and greasy kitchen smells on his jumper.

“I think I'm going to move out,” she said.

“Mm… talk about it in the morning?”

“Yeah. All right.”


	4. Dinner Invite

Hermione ran into Professor Lupin in the halls at the Ministry. She knew Harry saw him regularly, but she couldn't remember the last time she had seen him. He looked decidedly older, but also a good bit healthier and less shabby than the last time she could remember having crossed paths with him. His robes were still older and frayed, but he had some color in his cheeks.

“For goodness sakes, Hermione, call me Remus,” he said as she greeting him hello.

“Sorry, Remus,” she said. It was hardest to remember that she was an adult around teachers, she thought.

“How's Hogwarts?”

“Fine, fine. New potions master. Slughorn retired again to enjoy his many famous connections, I suppose. The giant squid died.”

“What? No!”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Did you have an affection for it?” He sounded amused.

“Well, no. I'm just surprised. What happened?”

“Hagrid said it was some sort of squid flu.” Remus smiled. “The Slytherins were a bit broken up. I hear it had a habit of sleeping up against their windows sometimes.”

“Oh my. What are you here for?”

“Werewolf registration office,” he said, his voice bitter but resigned. “All finished for this year though.”

“I've been trying to see what legislation might...” Hermione began, but Remus cut her off.

“None of that now,” he said. “Tell me what you're up to.”

Hermione began to explain about having her own flat and getting promoted and getting ready to take her solicitor's exam but it was awkward in the Ministry halls and Remus cut her off and before she knew what had happened, she had agreed to come to supper at Remus and Tonks's that Thursday evening.

Two days later, she found herself at the door to a small cottage on the edge of Hogsmeade. It wasn't fancy, but it looked homey, the way wizard homes were often slightly askew but appealing, with magically added rooms and unusually shaped roofs that somehow came together to make an eclectic whole.

Teddy answered the door.

It had been so long since she'd seen the little boy that for a moment, she was taken aback by the idea that she had come to the wrong house, but then she realized that, no, he would be four years old now, a proper child who could talk and occasionally answer doors.

“Hello, Teddy?” she said.

The little boy nodded enthusiastically. He looked a great deal like his mother, she thought, with slightly colorful tufts of hair tucked into the brown, deep brown eyes, a slightly wide nose, and slightly olive toned skin. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, in the way of a young child who has recently learned a phrase he's enjoying trying out. He reached his hand out and Hermione smiled back solemnly, reaching back to take it.

“Ted!”

She looked up just in time to see Tonks rushing forward. “Don't shake his hand!” she warned.

Hermione automatically pulled her hand back in surprise and Teddy looked abashed but a small smile showed on his face.

“Sorry. Remus took him to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes the other day and he's got some sort of hand buzzing thing that makes your hair stand on end.”

Tonks looked annoyed, but only in the most offhanded sort of way. She was in jeans that showed off her rounded hips and her hair was a surprisingly normal shade of dark brown, though it was shaved along the side. She looked unexpectedly beautiful, Hermione thought, more adult than she had when she had been a young auror and more comfortable in her skin, as changeable as it was.

“Oh,” Hermione said, her hand going unconsciously to her hair. “That's the last thing my hair needs, I think.” She had lately thought about cutting her hair short. She had passed a woman on the street in muggle London the other day with skin much darker than hers and her wild hair shaped in a sort of tiny afro with little twists and had wondered if maybe that would be easier than the way she kept putting control spells that inevitably wore off before the end of the day on her own hair. As a child, she had always stubbornly eschewed any advice about how to take care of her hair. Now she wished sometimes that she had listened. She had no idea what she was supposed to do with it.

“Your hair's funny,” Teddy said.

“Teddy,” Tonks said, exasperated. “What have we said about being polite?”

“But I like it!” Teddy said. And Hermione watched, somewhat entranced, as Teddy's hair faded from its rainbow of colors into a dark brown like hers and began going wild and curly, slowly growing itself out. Teddy reached out and touched a finger to her arm and his skin tone changed to match hers as well, a light brown. She watched in slight shock as he essentially became a younger version of herself, his features shaping to become more feminine as well, though it was hard to tell on a small child.

Tonks sighed. “Right,” she said. “Not bad, Ted.”

“I like it,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Can I play with the marbles before bed?”

“Go finish your supper first. We're having grown up dinner when your father gets home.”

Teddy literally skipped away, off into the other room, not bothering to change back into himself.

“Sorry,” Tonks said. “He's at a sort of stage, I think. He wants to see if he can do everyone he meets that he likes. I know it's probably disconcerting.”

“It's… amazing,” Hermione said. When Tonks pulled a face at her, she added, “And, yes, I suppose it's disconcerting. But it seems like it's normal to him.”

“Yes,” Tonks said. “I was the same as a kid. Just like that. I can remember realizing not much older than Teddy that it upset people. Then I starting using it to manipulate people's emotions. That wasn't a fun time for my mother, I think. But hopefully Teddy won't be like that. I'm trying to be less judging about the whole thing. It means we can't go outside wizarding areas at all, but I think it's the right thing to do.”

“He looks just like me as a child,” Hermione said. “Did he change…?” she suddenly stopped herself.

“Oh yes,” Tonks said, catching Hermione's unasked question. “He likes to become a girl and then go back again.” She eyed Hermione, as if daring her to challenge this or suggest that Tonks punish her son for being girly.

“Oh,” Hermione said, trying to play it off. “It's good that you're so relaxed about it all.”

“Thanks,” Tonks said, grinning. 

After that, Hermione got the house tour. It was small, but like many wizarding houses, seemed to be bigger on the inside, and Teddy's bedroom was surprisingly large. Remus arrived, bringing a jug of pumpkin butterbeer and a leftover tart from the Hogwarts kitchens.

“You never really answered my question about how Hogwarts is,” Hermione said.

“Just the same and totally different,” Remus replied. “New professors from your day. Minerva does a great job as headmistress, but she has a different style from Dumbledore, as you would expect. There are a lot more inter-house activities now. It's mostly Poppy's idea. She's got a whole mental health programme going.”

“Mental health? At Hogwarts!” Hermione laughed, but then she demanded that he tell her everything.

Tonks left to get Teddy to bed, while she and Remus talked over the butterbeer.

When Tonks returned, she pulled the lid off dinner, which was a stew, simmering on the stove. There were strange, purple vegetables and some sort of bright orange grain. Hermione raised her eyebrows, but Remus took a serving like it was normal.

“They can make me cook, but they can't make me cook normal food!” Tonks announced, taking her own serving and heading for the kitchen table.

Remus waved his wand and the table set itself, tablecloth appearing and unfolding, candles lighting themselves and floating down into candlesticks. “No one is making you cook.”

“I am a poor, put upon hausfrau, Hermione,” Tonks said. “See how the patriarchy is oppressing me. And they don't even realize it.”

Remus snorted.

Hermione didn't say anything, unsure how much they were teasing or serious.

“If I didn't cook like this, no one would.”

“Yes,” Remus said, his voice deadpan. “And then where would we be?”

Hermione sat down with her plate and hesitantly took a bite. It was unexpectedly good, with notes of sweetness playing with saltiness and spice. “It's wonderful,” she said.

“Thank you,” Tonks said, with a grin.

Remus took a bite of his. “You cheated. This is a recipe.”

Tonks's smile broadened. “Prove it.”

Remus sighed. “Fine. Then write a cookbook. Dinner for the creative put upon hausfrau.”

Tonks cackled with laughter. “Maybe I will.”

Hermione found herself unexpectedly enjoying their banter. Remus talked more about Hogwarts. They both asked her about all the legislation she was working on. She was mostly neck deep in property issues, trying to modernize the ways in which the wizarding owned properties were protected under muggle law. It was tricky sometimes, with muggle laws about things.

At some point, Remus excused himself and Tonks casually bade him goodnight.

“I should be going,” Hermione said, feeling slightly uncomfortable about having stayed so long.

“Don't be silly. The moon was less than a week ago. He's just still a little worn out. It's not that late. Unless you wanted to leave?”

“I…” Hermione stumbled. Other than when she went to see Harry, she hadn't really been out in ages. Most evenings, she buried herself in revisions and books. She wasn't sure when the last time she'd been out past nine even was.

“Come for a walk in the village,” Tonks said. “It's nice out. I like to walk in the dark like this and you can keep me company.”

“Yes, all right.”

Tonks grabbed a leather jacket and, Hermione noted, seamlessly changed her hair so that it shortened and had streaks of blond. She wondered if Tonks even knew she was doing it. She looked rather tough with the half shaved head and the jacket, but in a soft way.

Hermione grabbed her own cloak, a slightly shabby, brown wizarding cloak that was warm and serviceable.

Tonks was right. The weather wasn't too cold. The air had that warmth that sometimes hung in the mist at night through spring.

Tonks talked about the work she was doing on the side, writing spells and occasionally doing some consulting for the aurors, especially on disguises. Mostly, she was home with Teddy.

“In another year, he can go to the village school. Thank goodness.”

“There's a village school in Hogsmeade?”

“First one in the wizarding world since before the first war,” Tonks said. “There used to be a few, but they tended to be very egalitarian places and the pure bloods weren't especially into that. I don't think any of my mother's relatives went to them. Death Eaters attacked them straightaway for admitting squibs and the last two closed down when I was a baby.”

“I never knew any of that,” Hermione said.

“But there's a new one in the village. Just opened last year. Come on, we'll walk past.”

They had been ringing the edge of the village, on the residential side that Hermione didn't know as well as the high street. They circled now and she got her bearings, spying the Shrieking Shack down at the end of the lane where they turned.

The little school wasn't much bigger than a house, but with a large, fenced garden all around that set it apart from the other buildings nearby. There was evidence of construction on the roof and Hermione could see something on the far side of the garden that looked very odd. As they approached, she realized it was a jungle gym, much like the kind she remembered from nursery school.

“It has a playground,” Hermione said, strangely delighted. “Or it will. It's like a tiny muggle kindergarten.”

Tonks leaned against the low fence, looking at the darkened building. “I never went as a child. Hogwarts was my first school. Of course, my mother was always nervous about taking me out in case I did something completely mad, like animal noses.” She shrugged. “Did you like muggle school when you were little?”

“You know, a few years ago, I would have said I did,” Hermione said. “Now, I'm not so sure. I always loved the school part of it, but the more I think about it, it's like that part, the part where I was learning new things like maths and literature, is stripped away. Now all that's left is the mean girls who called me ugly and picked on me, and the teachers who moved too slow or punished me for being too clever. One teacher was just horrible to me. As a child, I never understood why, but now I think it's because I knew more than her about some things. I just read all the time, you know. Books were my only friends.”

“I can't believe anyone ever called you ugly,” Tonks said.

Hermione felt an odd shiver. “I was.”

“I suppose the awkward children grow up to be the most gorgeous.”

Hermione suddenly felt strangely angry. “Don't.”

“What?”

“Looks. Everyone is so concerned with them sometimes. I don't like it. Besides, it's not even true.” She walked away from the little school building.

Tonks rushed to catch up with her.

“Oi. Just take a compliment, would you?” she said. “And take it from someone who can look any way she likes. You may be more concerned with your cleverness, but you are beautiful. And there's nothing wrong with that.”

Hermione paused in the shadows of the edge of the road. “Fine,” she said. “Fine.”

Tonks cocked her head, giving Hermione an intense look. She felt uncomfortable under her gaze and that shiver came back, despite the relative warmth of the evening. For a moment, they just looked at each other, until Hermione began to think there was something very awkward about it and she tore her gaze away, feeling almost scared of what would happen if she kept looking.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the shimmer of Tonks's metamorph abilities and her whole body shifted. As she turned back, she realized, with a start, that Tonks hadn't just changed her hair color or put on a funny face.

She was slightly taller and leaner, her hair shorter, though still shaved on one side and loose on the other. Her hips were slender and there was the slightest hint of stubble on her face. Hermione stared, dumbstruck.

“Would this work better?” Tonks's voice was light, teasing, but also slightly deeper. It was still Tonks, but more masculine.

“Work better for what?” Hermione asked, feeling lightheaded.

“For making a pass.” Tonks's voice stayed casual but Hermione felt like the air between them on the deserted side street was charged. Her hair stood on end.

“I… No,” she whispered.

“You sure?”

“You can't… Tonks, you're _married_ ,” Hermione said. “And… do you… like that… I mean...” She took a breath, leaning back on the side of a fence that ringed the edge of the field.

“Marriage was mostly for Teddy and my parents,” Tonks said, with a shrug that seemed particularly masculine, the way that men could be so casual about emotion and matters of importance. It made Hermione irrationally bothered.

“I…” Hermione started, but then stopped, still looking at this other version of Tonks with frustration.

“It's still me. I like this me as well, you know.” Tonks leaned against the fence on the other side of Hermione, just a step away. “Just like Teddy earlier.”

Hermione thought she understood. She tried to push her thoughts in order, to move past the shock. It was still Tonks and she didn't have any problem with it. It was all just startling, but it was only another piece of information about the world, about Tonks. She was even still beautiful like that, handsome, though why that mattered, Hermione wasn't sure. Surely what mattered was what was on the inside. “You just surprised me.”

There was another shimmer as Tonks resumed her old body. Her hair lengthened slightly, her hips broadened, her features became softer. Hermione found her eyes drawn to Tonks's chest, but then she blushed, realizing she was staring. Since when did she stare at anyone's breasts?

“If you like me better like this, I'm happy to be like this,” Tonks said. “Do you, Hermione? Beautiful Hermione who doesn't know she's beautiful. Who doesn't know how her cleverness makes her beautiful. Do you like me better like this?”

“I… yes. Maybe.” Hermione felt her words whisper out of her.

“Can I?”

Hermione hardly knew what she was asking, but she nodded.

Tonks's hand came to rest on her arm, her thumb stroking along the inside of her elbow and her fingers resting over where Hermione felt goosebumps rising, the hair standing on end. She stepped closer and leaned in, placing the ghost of a kiss against Hermione's lips.

Hermione felt her heart pounding furiously. Tonks was so mad that it almost didn't seem strange that she should be kissing her. Tonks could do anything, could get away with anything. Hermione noticed how thin her lips were, how strong but delicate her hands were.

For long minutes, Hermione stood wide eyed as Tonks smiled at her with a sort of mischievous quirk of the lips. She felt out of control, almost like she had been imperioused, only by herself, by her own emotions swirling around.

She shook her head suddenly, forcing herself to come back to earth. “Thank you for the walk.” She pulled her arm away. “And for supper. It was wonderful. I should really apparate back to my flat. I've got a lot of work in the morning.”

Tonks nodded, but her smile didn't fade. If anything, it looked more like a smirk and Hermione felt her cheeks heat up, but she ignored the feeling. “Be sure to tell Pro… Remus that I said thank you for inviting me.”

“All right,” Tonks said. While Hermione straightened herself, Tonks didn't move from leaning against the side of the fence.

“Good night then,” Hermione said.

“Can I call on you again? This was rather good,” Tonks said.

Hermione, refusing to let herself feel flustered, nodded jerkily. “Yes, of course. Please do. Send me an owl.” For a moment, she stood frozen by the side of the road, then she nodded and, checking that her pockets were intact, she grasped her wand. “Good night!”

Back in her flat, Hermione couldn't wind down. She pulled out her books and ended up reading about the goblin wars, doing background research for upcoming legal negotiations that she knew was overkill, but was at least something to keep her mind off of Tonks's smile and blue hair.


	5. Tea and Sympathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very short. But there's a much longer one next, with some hopefully enjoyable smutty goodness. Lately things have just been forcing me to write Harry and Hermione's friendship, which is so underexplored in fic!

“Tell me again,” Harry said, grinning broadly at her.

“Stop it,” Hermione said, though she knew she didn't really mean it. She put down her tea and looked out at the growing number of plants behind Grimmauld Place. Under Neville's care, it was starting to look like a miniature botanic gardens around the back patio.

“Harry, how did you know…?”

“That I was bisexual?”

“Yes. Or, no. That you were attracted to anyone at all. How did you know you liked Ginny or Neville?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I think a lot of people are rather attractive, honestly. Ginny and I think it's fun to look at all the beautiful people together in Diagon sometimes.”

Hermione restrained herself from tutting at him. “But surely it's different with them. Isn't it?”

“Maybe.” He swirled his tea around, watching the leaves. “I'm not sure. I think it's more that we've built something and that's what's different. Anyone can be attractive. That's just lust. With Nev and Ginny I have something different, that's love, I suppose. But we made that. That's what I think. It didn't just happen. It's not magic.”

“But it started with attraction,” Hermione insisted.

“I guess,” Harry said. He grinned again. “And you felt attraction to Tonks.”

“Yes,” she said, trying to be definite. “But I didn't feel it out of nowhere. Maybe it's only that she said she was interested in me. Maybe that's all it was.”

Harry shrugged. “So what if it was?”

“But surely there's more to falling in love,” Hermione insisted. “You have to be compatible and have like interests and want the same things. I don't even know anything about her relationship with Remus. And she's older than us! And she's a mother. I don't know how I feel about that. Or if I'm… well, I don't know if I'm attracted to women. I haven't thought about it before.”

“Not at all?”

“Not really,” Hermione said. “When I was thirteen years old, I remember looking at Ron doing something pigheaded while we were in Hogsmeade and thinking that even though he was a complete idiot, I loved him. But then we grew up and my feelings never did. I think I still felt about him the same way that I did when I was thirteen.” She scowled. She hadn't meant to start talking about Ron.

Harry reached across the table to grab her hand. “Will you go?”

“Yes, of course,” she snipped. “I'm glad for him and Hannah. Of course I'll go. Don't be absurd.” The wedding save the date cards had come by owl post two days before, though she'd had a letter from Ron beforehand, telling her himself. He was so bloody mature about it all. Part of her hated him for it and part of her was genuinely relieved that he had moved on relatively quickly.

Harry dropped her hand and stood up, taking his teacup to the sink. “Sorry. Nope. You will not derail me so easily. We are talking about your mad, wild love affair with Tonks, and not about your ex-boyfriend.”

“It's not a love affair.”

“I think it is if you want it to be,” Harry grinned, leaning back against his kitchen counters. “And don't mind all that stuff about compatibility. It's not like you're going to marry her after all.”

“Because she's already married!” Hermione said. “And older. And… Teddy!”

Harry sighed and sat back at the table. “First of all, I don't know a lot, so you should talk to her and to Remus, but I know she had a mad crush on him and after Sirius died, they briefly got together and she ended up accidentally pregnant. I know Remus mostly identifies as gay. I don't think they're even together like that, not much. I think they're mostly just raising Teddy together.

“Secondly, she's not that old. She's closer to our age than Remus's. She was only in Charlie's year. I mean, we met her as teenagers, and she seemed so cool and grown up, right, as an auror, but it was only her second year on the job.”

“She did seem so cool,” Hermione said.

Harry cracked a laugh. “And finally, don't speak ill of my godson! Teddy is perfectly perfect in every way.”

“I'm not speaking ill of Teddy. I'm just saying that I didn't envision… this for myself.”

Harry paused. “Hermione, you envisioned getting married to Ron and having lots of frizzy redheaded children, but you rejected that. There is no vision anymore. And I know you think divination is a crock. Stop trying to make plans.”

“What did you envision for your life?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Harry admitted. “I didn't think I'd ever live this long.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said.

Harry laughed. “It's freeing to wake up alive every morning. Every morning so far anyway. This is very strange you know, giving Hermione Granger advice.”

“Stop it,” she said again.

“So you're seeing her again?” Harry wagged his eyebrows.

“Stop it!” she repeated, to which he broke out laughing again.


	6. Hogsnock Baths

When Hermione apparated to Hogsmeade after work Friday afternoon, she thought they were going to dinner. Instead, Tonks was in combat boots and a leather jacket that looked more suited to parts of muggle London than an evening in Britain's largest wizarding village. She was toting a large sack over her shoulder that made her look a little like she was running away from home.

“Come on,” she said, with a gleam in her eye. “My mum's got Teddy and if we don't leave soon, she'll come up with some question for me.” She said question meaningfully, as if it were a slightly dirty word.

“All right,” Hermione said, stepping back from the little house, where she had not yet set foot in the door.

Before she could ask what they were doing, Tonks had grabbed her hand and side-alonged her.

Hermione didn't know what she had expected exactly, but somehow it wasn't to appear surrounded by green, the distant mountains less distant and the shadows now much more pronounced. She looked down at her shoes, now slightly sunken into the soggy ground, weeds and grass poking around her foot, which gave a squelch as she moved it.

“I don't know if I wore the right footwear for this,” she said hesitantly. “I thought we were just getting dinner.”

“I've got dinner,” Tonks said, swinging the pillowcase sack. “It's not too far. I would have aimed closer, but there's too much magic to apparate right in.” Not letting go of Hermione's hand, she tugged her as she began walking up a tiny, worn path that seemed to go between two hills up ahead.

“But… where are we?” Hermione asked. “And what magic? Is it dangerous? Should I have my wand out?” She felt utterly unprepared.

“It's a surprise.”

That was so unsatisfactory an answer that Hermione couldn't stop herself from making an indignant huff.

Tonks laughed. “I'll take care of you. Nothing dangerous, I promise. Don't you want a little adventure in your life?”

“Excuse me!” Hermione said, feeling even more indignant. “I don't think anyone's accused me of not having enough adventure.” She let go of Tonks's hand and stomped forward up the path.

Tonks seemed to find that delightful. “Oh, there's the Gryffindor in you!” she exclaimed. “This is why dating Gryffindors is the best. They take every dare. I dare you to have fun, Hermione. I dare you to let me be in charge. I dare you to break the law.”

Hermione paused, briefly worrying over the comment about dating before lawbreaking fully sunk in. Tonks rapidly overtook her on the path. “Wait, break the law? I'm not going to break the law.”

“Don't tell me you never broke the law,” Tonks said. In the dim, early evening light, Hermione could see her hair shift to green like the hills they were passing.

“That's different,” Hermione defended. “I broke the law because it was unjust or because I had to. You know that! Are you telling me we're going to break an unjust law?”

“Nah. Just a tiny little one though. Wotcher.”

With that, Tonks disappeared, fading into the space between the hills.

Hermione blinked then hurried ahead to catch up. For a fraction of a moment, she worried that it wasn't just a magical veil, but something more sinister, but then she'd blundered through it too and was on the other side in time to see Tonks scaling an old wrought iron fence.

“This is the only law breaking. Don't worry. It's been abandoned since before either of us was born. Can't destroy a place no one's keeping up in the first place. We're just here to take a dip.” Tonks dropped the sack down with a thud and then jumped herself, arms in the air, leather jacket flying behind her like a cape. She looked glorious and confident as she turned around to briefly smile at Hermione from the other side of the fence. She tilted her head and grinned. Hermione couldn't help remembering the ghost of a kiss they had shared and looking at her body, the curve of her breasts under the jacket and the line of her hips as she turned, so confident that Hermione would follow.

For a moment, Hermione paused, fighting with herself, reminding herself that she was actually an expert now on magical property law and this was exactly what she shouldn't be doing. But then somehow desire and curiosity won out. She climbed the fence feeling clumsy and nowhere near as graceful as Tonks. As she went down the other side, she snagged her arm on something sharp and drew blood.

“What is this place?” she asked when she finally caught up with Tonks. There were small stone buildings with their thatched roofs nearly gone and little pathways overgrown with moss between the stones everywhere. A large, stately house that looked like an old manor loomed ahead with what appeared to be a massively overgrown garden in front.

“It's the Hogsnock Baths. Magical natural springs.”

“There are magical springs?” Hermione looked around.

Tonks gently took her arm. “You cut yourself.” She withdrew her wand. “I'll take care of it. Oh, and watch as I do.”

As Tonks said the spell to seal up the tiny cut, the moss flared to life with a brilliant green then faded again.

“What was that?” Hermione asked.

“They react to magic. Watch. Revelio.”

All around them, a million things came to life at once. The moss flared brilliant green, leaves on the trees shone like Christmas lights, and the pools were suddenly visible in the ground ahead, their waters sparkling blue before fading away.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Told you I'd show you a good time. Wait until you feel the water.”

“But… it's too cold for swimming. And I didn't bring a swimsuit. I didn't bring anything!”

“So you'll swim in your skivvies. That's what I planned to do.” Tonks's hair turned blue again and she grinned widely at Hermione.

For a moment, Hermione felt angry. Ron would have known not to surprise her with an unexpected swimming trip in chilly weather on someone else's private property with magic that she hadn't thoroughly researched. Ron would have known it was too much.

Then Hermione remembered that Ron was marrying someone else. He was doing that because she hadn't wanted to marry him at all. The idea had filled her completely with dread. It still did in a way.

“Fine!” Hermione said, a little more forcefully than she had intended.

A few minutes later, standing in front of a little pool that smelled of earth and magic, Hermione watched as Tonks peeled off her clothes.

She tried not to be hesitant, but somehow by the time Tonks was fully undressed, Hermione had only managed to remove her jacket and shoes.

Tonks's skin was peachy and smooth. Hermione tried not to stare, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Tonks slid off her trousers to reveal boxer shorts, then peeled off her shirt, which point Hermione realized she was wearing nothing at all underneath. Her breasts hung loose, swinging down slightly as Tonks put her discarded clothes on the ground, nipples hard in the chill. In fact, Hermione could see gooseflesh all over Tonks's upper body, tiny bumps all over her skin. Even thought she wasn't cold from nakedness yet, she shivered too.

“Come on,” Tonks said. “I showed you mine. You show me yours.”

Hermione bit her lip but then she nodded. “I'm coming in. Go ahead.”

Tonks waggled her eyebrows with a smile and slid into the pool, steam rising around her as she sighed with obvious pleasure.

Hermione felt self-conscious as she pulled off her jeans and sweater. Why had she not thought to wear matching underclothes? Did she even have a set of matching underclothes? Her plain cotton underpants seemed even more chaste than a swimsuit, which was either good or bad, she couldn't decide. She'd never gotten used to witches' bras and had a slightly lacy blue thing with underwire from Marks and Spencer that she now worried was also not exciting enough. She looked at the pudge of her belly and the size of her thighs, feeling even more unsure. She'd never been athletic and adulthood seemed like it was making her softer and fuller, something she wasn't sure she liked.

“Get in, beautiful witch,” Tonks teased, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Hermione dipped her toe in, then stepped all the way in, taking care with the steps that were slightly crumbling. The bottom of the pool was sandy with bits of crumbled stone and pebbles. Once she was all the way in, she sank down lower and couldn't help suppress a sigh of pleasure. The water was deliciously hot. Inside, it didn't smell fiery or earthen, but almost sweet, like lavender. She felt her whole body relax and her self-consciousness ease dramatically.

“Right. There you are.”

“I can't believe all this is here, abandoned.”

“It fell on hard times and shut down before the first war against old Moldy Wart. My mum knows the woman who still owns it. She's a doddering old witch who's lucky when she remembers her name in the morning. I'll bet whoever inherits it fixes it up or sells it to someone who does.”

“It's amazing.”

“Too right. My seventh year, a bunch of us nearly got expelled from Hogwarts sneaking out here one weekend. We did a runner from Hogsmeade and spent the whole of one perfect Sunday here in the pools. Luckily Dumbledore decided to let us sit our NEWTS after all. I think my mum nearly lost it. And you should have heard Molly Weasley's howler to Charlie over it. Luckiest kids were the two muggleborns whose parents didn't know how wicked we'd been.”

“I'm probably lucky my parents didn't understand all the things I got up to either,” Hermione said, thinking of them so far away. More than four years on and they were getting ready to finally return to England, but it all felt bittersweet to Hermione. It was astounding how much she'd disrupted their lives.

“That's a bit different though,” Tonks said. She pushed all the way into the water and then came up again, stretching her legs across the steps so that her toes were against Hermione's thigh. “What are your mum and dad like?”

Hermione smiled and told her about dentistry and Australia and how her parents were always approving, even when they had no clue what they were approving of.

“That's brilliant,” Tonks said, tilting her head back into the waters then letting her feet float up, not far from where Hermione sat. “I want to me that sort of mum for Teddy. Unconditional love and all that.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “You are. I'm sure.”

Tonks smiled then dipped her feet back down and swam toward Hermione. She let her feet float behind her and placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders. Then she leaned in and placed a kiss on Hermione's ear, then her cheek, and finally her lips, each one just a ghost of a touch, inviting.

“Tonks, is this… I mean...” Hermione struggled. “What about Remus?” she whispered.

“Mmm...” Tonks hummed and floated back to the other side of the pool, the warm water swirling around Hermione as she moved away. “What do you want to know?”

“I… don't know,” Hermione said.

“War is bollocks,” Tonks said. “It makes people, like myself I suppose, think that every little emotion is so big. I had a crush and I convinced myself I loved him. I mean, I do love him. Remus is wonderful. But we aren't all that compatible most of the time. He's still in love with Sirius. He'll never be over him. I've had to come to terms with that.” She shrugged in a way that Hermione thought was hiding a lot that was much more complex. “Remus is a good dad and a good professor, but he's bollocks at being a husband and he knows it. We have separate bedrooms. And an agreement.”

“So this is… allowed?” Hermione asked.

Tonks quirked her eyebrows. “It's allowed if you allow it, beautiful girl.”

Hermione let out a small laugh. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“I'll bet that's hard for Hermione Granger,” Tonks said, her voice both understanding and strangely suggestive. “I could kiss it and make it better.”

Hermione's laugh in response was a little longer than the last one. “You're absurd.”

“But you like that.” There was only a hint of a question in Tonks's voice, hidden behind her cocky exterior.

It was a surprise to realize that maybe she did like that. She couldn't help but roll her eyes, but then she nodded, just a dip of her head.

Tonks swam back immediately, hands looping under Hermione's arms and coming to rest on her hips, right where her underthings were. Her legs floated forward and she rested her knees to either side of Hermione, her thighs straddling her.

“Will the court allow it?” Tonks teased.

She was so close. Her bare breasts, full with dusky nipples against pale skin, rose above the warm water, perfectly rounded. Her hands didn't move, but Hermione could feel Tonks's thumbs at her hips, just slightly dug in. The insides of Tonks's thighs brushed against the outside of Hermione's, just a brush of sensation in the water. Everything felt buoyant and Hermione felt weightless.

Tonks was so close, but she wasn't close enough.

Hermione initiated the second kiss of the evening, this one no brush of the lips. She opened her mouth and pulled Tonks in, tasting her and feeling the warm massage of lips. Her hands went to mirror Tonks's hands, resting on her hips. Tonks pressed her knees down and pushed up, making Hermione lean back against the pebbled edge of the pool, as Tonks's tongue came against hers.

It was completely the same as kissing a boy, though she had really only ever kissed two boys. One of them had been so much older and more experienced, but his kisses were hesitant and careful and he talked about how he would wait for her to be old enough, which made her feel both honored and very young and powerless. Ron's kisses were messy and enthusiastic, so excited and genuine, but without any real technique, at least that she could tell. She was always trying to get him to change the tilt of his head or the way he either became all tongue or no tongue at all the wrong moments. Until she wasn't trying to change anything at all and was just alone.

Tonks didn't have either of those problems. She kissed Hermione with finesse, making her feel like the kiss was a spell that she had been doing the wandwork ever so slightly wrong. Now it was clicked into place just right. This was how kissing should be, Hermione thought. It should make her feel warm inside and light her up.

As Tonks bobbed her head against Hermione, kissing her then coming up for air and to mouth at her neck before kissing her again, Hermione found that she was actually moaning.

“I don't know what I'm doing,” Hermione said the next time their lips parted.

“Kissing,” Tonks said.

“Yes, but… I feel...” Hermione let out another slight moan. “I want you closer. I want your hands all over me, I want...” She paused, surprised at herself. “I don't ever… I didn't mean to say that.”

“The waters lower your inhibitions,” Tonks reminded her. Her hands drifted up through the water, stroking along Hermione's sides, up from her underpants to the clasp of her bra on her back and then back down again.

“Unfair,” Hermione complained.

“You can tell me to go and we'll go,” Tonks said, though she didn't stop her infuriating touching. Hermione could feel where her nipples were in the water, where the elastic of her underpants met her waist, where her toes brushed the sandy bottom of the pool. She could feel every prickle of sensation on her skin and it all seemed to be screaming to be touched. Harry was the only person who touched her anymore. He hugged her and rubbed her shoulders and this was so different and so much more and not anywhere near enough.

Hermione leaned in to kiss Tonks again, delighting in how electrifying it felt, how all the sensation of skin settled in her belly, making her feel a level of desire she had never really felt.

“Good answer,” Tonks teased.

Hermione had not known. She hadn't known that she wanted to be teased or needed to have her inhibitions lowered or that a line of four earrings on a woman's earlobe could be sexy.

Tonks's hands massaged her skin. They ran through her hair, teasing it out even wilder, and the water thick with minerals was going to be a pain to wash out later, even with magic, but she didn't really care at that moment, not as Tonks cradled her chin and pulled her into another kiss.

Tonks got closer, pressing her whole body against Hermione. Those were her breasts, right against Hermione's, her thighs now touched her hips, her belly just slightly parted from Hermione's. Her bra came loose. “This all right?” Tonks asked as the blue bra floated away from them then sank in the pool.

Hermione looked down at her breasts, freed. Tonks rubbed at her nipples, which peaked in the water despite the warmth. “I want to suck these,” Tonks whispered in her ear. “I want to put my tongue all over you, but I'm afraid I don't have any gillyweed or know any good spells that won't result in drowning unless I get you out of here right now.

The part of Hermione that liked to scream, stop, wait, let's discuss this, possibly with charts, seemed farther away than usual, so she let herself be guided out of the water and onto the moss next to the pool, where Tonks transfigured the moss to be softer and cast a warming spell so that all of Hermione's goose pimples were just about her nervous anticipation. All around them, the lights in the pools and the magical plants lit up in their own anticipation, responding to the magic.

Looking at Tonks half naked, dripping from the pool, standing over her, Hermione felt foolish that she had thought so little about what made a person attractive in the first place. She had loved Ron because he was Ron, a stalwart of her childhood who had made her feel safe and accepted. Then she had tried to make lists about compatible goals and careers. Never had she imagined that a woman with a half shaved head with curvy hips and breasts, wearing boxer shorts would be the thing to make her moan with desire. She wasn't sure why the boxer shorts were so a part of it. It was so irrational and she could feel herself flushing from the realization of just how hot she found Tonks at that moment.

“The challenge for you, I can already tell,” Tonks said. “It's to get you to stop thinking.”

“I'm… not,” Hermione said.

The moss was soft and Tonks rested herself on her elbow next to Hermione. “You are.”

“No, I'm really… I'm just...” Hermione paused, trying to explain how the waters had made her looser and more relaxed and suddenly more in touch with her need to just be touched more.

“Just thinking too much,” Tonks insisted.

“I...” Hermione tried again to put her thoughts together, but it was futile, especially as Tonks's fingers were now at her belly, running circles around her belly button and continuously dipping lower to the edge of her panties.

“It's all right. I like a challenge.”

Hermione also wanted to touch. She ran fingers over Tonks's breasts some more, enjoying the weight of them and the way her nipples softened and hardened to the touch. Then she enjoyed the way the side of Tonks's shaved head felt, the millimeter of hair so thin and soft to the touch. Before she could enjoy Tonks's back or her middle, which she wanted to feel, which was so much softer and more beautiful than she had ever thought, Tonks skirted down her, and pressed her face to Hermione's thighs.

“Stop thinking,” Tonks whispered again.

Hermione hummed. She had always had trouble with this part, when she was the center of attention. It was so much easier with a bloke, she realized uncomfortably. If she wanted to feel like things with Ron were mutual, then she could just pull him over her and let him be inside her. She didn't have to endure this part where she was the center of attention and she wasn't reciprocating. It felt unfair or unbalanced and made her feel selfish and self-conscious. Except she had never gotten much out of having Ron inside her, never much loved his enthusiastic thrusts and moans.

“Is there a spell for stopping thinking?” Tonks kissed her thigh and slipped a finger into the waist of her underpants. “You would know if anyone would.”

“There are many spells that impair the cognitive abilities of a foe,” Hermione began.

Tonks laughed. “Shut up, Hermione.” Hermione found her panties suddenly stripped from her. The lights surged up around them again in response to Tonks's use of magic. “I only know really useful spells.”

Hermione's protest died on her lips as Tonks whispered again, “Good, right?”

Because it was good. She didn't know how to lie. She didn't know how to do this, to reciprocate, to be there and accept this attention, but she also wanted. She wanted so much. The dampness between her legs wasn't just the water from the magical pools.

“Yeah.”

Tonks pushed her thighs apart. Then her fingers were right at Hermione's labia. She stroked the outside and ran her fingers through her curls, stroking at her mound. Hermione felt more desire run down through her.

“I should...” Hermione started, but Tonks shushed her quickly.

“Stop interrupting me. I'm very busy right now,” Tonks teased. “Please, please, I want to so bad. I've been thinking about you nonstop since you let me kiss you after dinner in the village. Thinking about your brown eyes and your wild hair and what you'd look like here at your core and… Hermione, I want to make you stop thinking and cry out in pleasure and...”

Tonks was practically babbling, but somehow it worked and Hermione let her head go back and her neck go loose against the mossy ground. She said all this as she kept stroking Hermione's folds, just teasing her by touching everywhere around where she wanted to be touched most. Tonks's fingers stroked her labia and her perineum, trailed along the inside of her thigh up to her hip and across to her mound, stroking the hair there again, and then dipping down so close again, but not quite there.

“I need...” Hermione started.

“I'm taking care of you,” Tonks said. “Is this what you need?”

Her fingers parted Hermione's folds and stroked around her entrance, the slippery wetness now spreading around the inside of her labia.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered.

“Shh...” Tonks said.

Her mouth came down on Hermione's sex then, Hermione felt her fingers slip inside in a smooth glide. Her lips, the same lips that had been at work against Hermione's, now worked again against her clit, giving it a gentle suck, then a harder one, then gentler. Her fingers rocked in and out, in and out, in and…

Hermione had never orgasmed so quickly in her life and it took her by surprise. Orgasms were something that she worked for when she masturbated. It felt like Tonks had just reached inside her and showed her another path to that spasm of pleasure entirely.

She cried out as Tonks kept going, kept sucking, kept up the in and out motion. It was like she knew something that Hermione didn't. It felt like a wave that had crashed into the shore. For a moment, it receded and then it was back, crashing again, making everything seize up a second time just moments later.

Hermione made an incoherent noise as Tonks's lips released her. Her hand stilled but stayed inside her and Hermione was grateful for the connection.

She wasn't sure how long it was before she spoke again. It seemed like a long time, but she was sure it was only a minute or so at most.

“Should I do the same to you?” she asked, not sure if that's how this was all supposed to work.

“Yeah,” Tonks said. “Or, whatever you want.”

“I don't really know...”

“Just give me your hand,” Tonks cut her off.

Tonks's fingers slid out, leaving Hermione feeling empty, though still sated and warm inside. Tonks slid her own wet boxers off. She was up against Hermione so that she couldn't see between them, but she could feel the silky hair between her legs. Her fingers scrambled and she had a momentary flush of confusion. She knew her anatomy but the angle was all wrong.

But then Tonks's hand gripped her wrist and guided her forward. “This all right?” She was breathless and it sent another surge of pleasure through Hermione.

“Yeah.”

Tonks didn't want her to be gentle. Hermione found her fingers guided inside. Tonks didn't let go of her wrist.

“More,” Tonks said. “Three. More. Hard.”

Hermione complied, pushing three fingers together and pushing in again. Tonks was wet and she could feel her muscles loosening and contracting in rhythm. Tonks gripped her hand and ground against her.

She felt used, but it wasn't unpleasant. “Yeah, like that,” Tonks entreated when Hermione crooked her fingers up the best she could. There was nothing but slippery skin and the mineral smell of the waters coming off Tonks's skin.

Tonks thrust her hips against Hermione's hand, still gripping it tightly.

“Yeah,” she said. “Oh, fuck, Hermione, oh...”

As Tonks came, her grip on Hermione's wrist finally loosened and Hermione felt a final wave of pleasure riding up through her. It was a sense of accomplishment, of having gotten a good mark and made her lover happy.

“Fuck,” Hermione breathed out, then immediately felt self-conscious again for having derived so much pleasure from the second part of their lovemaking.

Tonks laughed and leaned over to kiss her again.


	7. Bridesmaids Salon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a haircut. Yeah, I know. But let's face it, sometimes hair is a big deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't entirely disappear! This fic really is still swimming in my head. I have just been absurdly busy lately.

Hermione was still settling into her new position now that she had passed her exams. It was fascinating to be a clerk for the judges and she felt so grateful that Winifred Birdwhistle had taken her under her wing. The elderly witch had given Hermione a stern look on her first day, but then said, “Call me Freddie.”

She hated to take any time off so early in her new position, even if it was only half a day, but when Ginny arrived, all bright smiles, to whisk her away to the salon, she tried to pretend happiness and gathered her things.

“Eloise says it's the best magical salon in all of Britain,” Ginny said, still all grins as they emerged from the Floo to head onto Diagon Alley. “They're going to turn us into proper girls for once.”

“Can't do much to me,” Alicia shrugged. Alicia and two of Ginny's other Harpies friends had joined them. Eloise and Luna were meeting them there. At least she'd be able to talk to Luna, Hermione supposed, but then she grimaced a bit because if Luna was her best conversation partner, she really was in trouble.

“Nothing wrong with being a tomboy,” one of the Harpies players said.

“Well, everyone wants to feel a little feminine on their wedding day,” Ginny shrugged.

Hermione could see that Ginny was sporting a quidditch bruise on her arm, all purpled and slightly swollen. She had her long hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail.

Hermione was still in her Ministry robes. She found having had to wear uniforms since she was eleven something of a relief most of the time. She didn't feel especially feminine or masculine. Why should being athletic make them masculine? She had never thought much about gender growing up, at least not beyond being angry when boys didn't give her her due. Tonks seemed to think gender was an outfit you put on and took off.

The whole time that she'd roomed with Lavendar and Parvati, they had been so, so girly, trying on make up charms and hair charms nonstop it seemed. Hermione just felt it was a waste of time. So femininity was a waste of time. Except now she wondered if all that ignoring had made her ignore things about herself that she had taken way too long to see. She had been impatient with all the girls her age, so she had only ever really been friends with boys.

“Yes, I admit it, you were right, Gin,” one of the Harpies girls was saying. “Luxurious and luxe. It'll be fun.”

The salon was on Music Alley, two blocks off Diagon. Cherubic stone statues continually lifted water out of a little fountain to let it spill back down from leaf shaped stone bowls. The window display was a barrage of shiny bottles, all rocking back and forth as if vying to attention.

Inside, there were long lines of salon chairs with floating head driers hovering over them, making it look a bit like an old fashioned muggle salon that was suddenly beset with magic. A few customers were going in and out and a house elf was busy sweeping up. Hermione watched her with a grimace.

“Don't worry,” said a familiar voice. “I think they're better treated here than at Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Hi, Parvati.”

“Does this mean I finally get my hands on your hair?” she asked, her eyes lit up.

Hermione saw that Parvati was in the pink smock that all the salon workers had on.

“Oh, er… You're working here now?”

“Lav and I both are. She's not here today because… well…” She gestured generally to indicate something that was escaping Hermione's understanding. “But...” She lowered her voice. “We have plans. The old witch who runs this place is such a biddy. Look at what old fashioned décor she still uses. We want to open our own shop. We just need the funding. And the location. And the name. But we're working on it.”

“Oh,” Hermione said.

Ginny was busy setting everyone up. Hermione looked around slightly miserably. “Yes, I guess you do get your hands on my hair.”

Parvati grinned. “Seriously?” She squealed a tiny peel of joy. “You will not regret this!”

Within a few minutes, they were all at various chairs getting different treatments for their skin and hair. Ginny looked bubbly and flushed. She kept giggling from her spot toward the front. Hermione was happy in a way that Parvati's stall was toward the back. It meant she wasn't in the thick of things and didn't have to chat with everyone else if she didn't want to. From several feet back, Ginny was actually a pleasure to watch. She really was so happy. She and Harry and Neville were so happy. Hermione wasn't sure she totally understood the three of them or how they all fit together, but the idea that the fierce woman filled with joy that she was watching would take care of Harry made her feel content inside.

“So, we could do a Gully's straightening charm or I could try some of the Well Witch potions, which are not bad, but what I really think...”

“Cut it off,” Hermione said, turning to look at the mirror.

“Ooh, daring. How short?”

Hermione made a face at herself in the mirror. She had no idea.

“I just want it to be different. I'm sick of straightening it and trying to keep it under control.”

Parvati grinned again. “Ooh, I know just the look.”

She managed to tune everything out, as Parvati chatted with the other women and applied various potions and charms. Most of them tickled. She pulled out her scissors and Hermione closed her eyes as she began to snip. When was little, her mother used to put her hair in braids, tugging it back harder and harder. She had hated it so much, which was why they'd started using some rinse and just letting it go wild instead. She wasn't even sure anymore what the rinse had been. When she got to Hogwarts, she'd looked up spells to keep it tied back or out of her face and detangled and used those instead.

Parvati's efforts didn't tug like her mother's had. She felt her old roommate's fingers twisting through with various wet goo, probably potions of some sort. Hermione smelled oranges, then mugwort, and finally cinnamon. She closed her eyes and didn't gaze in the mirror. It was too stressful to watch it happen. All around her, the rest of Ginny's wedding party tittered about dresses and boyfriends. Parvati and the other women who worked at the salon dispensed advice. Hermione thought about all the cases she had seen that week. Then her mind drifted and she thought about Tonks.

Over the weekend, she had taken Tonks to muggle London, where they'd gone to the British Museum. Tonks had never been and Hermione hadn't been since she was a girl. She thought perhaps her parents had taken her the summer after her first year at Hogwarts, which was quite a long time ago.

They had paused over famous medieval chessmen, which were not at all impressive, according to Tonks, who said her mother had some from the same era, only wizarding pieces, charmed to take up the battle. In a room filled with Chinese porcelains, she had tugged Hermione into a corner and snogged her then apparated both of them away to Hermione's apartment.

Hermione shivered in the salon chair thinking about Tonks's skin, about having kissed the insides of her thighs and about having rubbed the pad of her thumb over Tonks's clit and watched the way she squeezed all her muscles tight, the beautiful pink of her opening tightening up and then loosening, the folds of her labia slowly going from moist to dripping wet. Tonks had made her come too, stroking her and sucking her nipples so hard they were sore all the next day. But somehow it was thinking about how she could bring Tonks off that made Hermione want to sink into memories and not emerge.

“Ooh! Lovely.” A singsong voice interrupted her thoughts, and Hermione felt herself flush with heat of both arousal tamped down on and embarrassment at having gotten sucked into her thoughts. She snapped her eyes open.

Luna had arrived late, which was very Luna. Her blond hair was uneven and Hermione could sense Parvati probably wanted to get her hands on Luna as well. Luna opened her eyes wide. “You look quite different. I like it.”

Hermione became aware that all the women were looking her way now. She spun around, slightly afraid, but needing to look in the mirror.

Parvati had made her hair dramatically shorter. It was now only a few inches off her head. Instead of a bushy half afro, bits of her hair clung in spiky tendrils, poking out in every direction. One side was shorter, the curls twisted up against her scalp. The other side was longer like the top, giving the impression that her hair was swept to the side artfully.

“Oh,” Hermione said.

“It's cool,” Alicia offered from her spot next to Ginny.

“Yeah, it's… well, I like it,” Ginny added.

Hermione felt her cheeks burning. She didn't know how she felt about this new look, but she hated all the attention and scrutiny.

“Yes, well, I need the loo. May I, Parvati?”

Parvati was looking at her expectantly and Hermione could tell that by not reacting much, she hadn't done her former roommate any kindness, but she didn't know what to think when everyone was watching. Parvati nodded, so Hermione slid out of the chair and hurried to the back.

In the mirror, she splashed some water on her face and looked herself over again. It was so strange to see herself coiffed like that. Her whole face felt different. It was modern and almost mugglish.

The door creaked open and she saw a pair of brown eyes peering at her quietly.

“Oh, hello, Padma,” Hermione said.

“I was just coming to walk Vati home and I saw you run off,” Padma said, her voice soft. “When she cut off all my hair, I kept catching sight of myself in mirrors and doing a double take for weeks. But I got used to it.”

Padma's pixie cut suited her. It somehow accentuated her slender body and short stature in a way that was flattering.

“It's suits you,” Hermione said. She was really very pretty. Hermione was brought up by the thought. Was this the sort of thing she noticed now too?

Padma smiled and shrugged. “I wanted to look a little more… Oh, it's silly, really, but I wanted to look a bit more queer. I thought it might… I don't know.” She looked embarrassed.

“Oh,” Hermione said, a flush of relief and comfort washing over her. “Are you…?”

Padma nodded. “I'm a lesbian. It's not a secret, but I don't suppose many people know. It's a bit awkward with going into education and all. Some witches still have homophobic ideas about how teachers should be.”

Hermione nodded. “Oh,” she said, then immediately felt frustrated with herself for repeating everything.

“It's all right,” she shrugged. “You don't need to say anything.” She chuckled slightly. “But when I say your hair really does look smashing, you can take it as a proper compliment, yeah?”

Hermione's hands flew to her hair, feeling how soft and slightly moist her new curls felt. “You know, actually, I'm also...”

The bathroom door burst open and Parvati stood there looking annoyed. “If you hate it, just tell me fast because the time to do a reversal spell is running out fast.”

“No!” Hermione cried. “I didn't say that. It's… it's terrific. I just need to get used to it.”

“Really?” Parvati asked.

“Truly,” Hermione said. “Will it really stay like this though? Won't it go all frizzy and pouffy again?”

“Not if you take care of it.” Parvati looked thrilled. “I'll show you just the things. You're lucky you got me, Hermione. A lot of these salon witches have no idea what to do with 'ethnic' hair. But I know all the right products. I've been researching a ton. Lav and I might start our own line.”

“When you start your own salon,” Hermione said.

“Yes, exactly!”

She was so enthused that Hermione thought it might really happen.

“Come on, I'll show you!”

Hermione trailed out after her, turning back to say something more to Padma and only then realizing that she had slipped out. Hermione saw her at the front, but the other woman didn't quite meet her eyes. “I'll catch you later, Vati,” she said to her twin.

“You're going to look amazing at the wedding tomorrow,” Ginny said.

Hermione spun around to look at her. Ginny's own red hair was still beautifully thick and straight. It shone in some way Hermione had never seen. Little tendrils were separated and curled loosely to frame her face.

“Oh, so will you,” Hermione said, pleased that she seemed to have been able to say the right thing.

“I'm sure that… well, anyone you're trying to look good for will be duly impressed,” Ginny added, with a slight wink. Of course Ginny knew about her and Tonks. There were no secrets in that house. She flushed thinking about Tonks. Tonks probably would like her new hair. She loved anything new, after all, and she loved to run her fingers through Hermione's hair.

Ginny looked at her expectantly, carefully, as Parvati took out little bottles of hair potion.

Hermione smiled back. She wasn't sure if she and Ginny would ever be best friends. They had been thrown together often enough when they were in school and she was staying with the Weasleys, but they'd never quite fit. Then they had that terrible fight the previous year. But Ginny really was all right.

“Thanks, Gin,” Hermione said.

“So, this one is for keeping the curl,” Parvati said, waving the first of several bottles in front of Hermione. “And this one...”

Hermione scrunched her face and tried to pay attention.


	8. A Wedding

In the early morning hours before the wedding, Hermione stood in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place watching with a tiny group of people as Harry bounced on the balls of his feet and messed with his half done dress robes.

“I should have finished getting dressed, right? I should be wearing something special for this, right?” Harry fidgeted with the undone cuffs on his robes.

“It's perfect. This isn't about how you're dressed.”

“That's later,” Harry rolled his eyes. The Prophet would be at the big ceremony later on, as would every Weasley and what sometimes seemed like half the wizarding world.

This part was going to be private. Only a few people would be there to see the complex spellwork as Harry, Ginny and Neville all bound themselves together with a promise.

Not every wizarding marriage used such spells, but Hermione knew it had been important to Harry, especially since as far as the world was concerned, he and Ginny would be the ones who actually were married. Magic didn't care about civil ceremonies though. In this more important way, they would all three be bound together with a magical oath.

Harry did his cufflinks, then undid them as he waited for everyone to arrive. Hermione braced herself for Ron's arrival, but when Ginny came through the Floo, she was accompanied only by her brother Charlie and her friend Eloise.

Harry surged at Ginny, then at Neville, who was the last to arrive, looking slightly sheepish and coming through the Floo alone.

Remus took Harry aside and Hermione, from her position at the edge of the sitting room, couldn't help but overhear a bit of what he said about how Harry's father would have been proud of him and would have supported him, and how he would have loved Ginny and Neville both.

It was Remus who called everyone to order, maybe because he had so much experience doing that sort of thing with unruly classes of students. There were only about a dozen people there, but the room was slightly crowded as the three who were about to make their oaths went to the center of the room, pushing the overstuffed ottoman out of the way. Hermione felt a tug on the sleeve of her robes and looked down to see Teddy, who had on pale, freckled skin and hair that looked a bit like his father's.

“I can't see,” Teddy said plaintively.

“Do you want me to lift you?”

“Thank you,” Teddy said, clearly having expected exactly that.

Hermione saw Tonks, who rolled her eyes. She guessed that Teddy's mum had already turned down holding him, but she didn't mind. Teddy was a little bit fascinating to her. She'd never spent much time with children. She was an only child and neither of her parents had a lot of family. It wasn't that she disliked kids, but she hadn't really thought about them either. She'd never been the sort to babysit. As a prefect, she hadn't been the girl that the first years ran to for advice. She was too bossy and aloof. Settling into adulthood made it very different. She brushed a bit of Teddy's sandy colored hair from his forehead and hitched him up to be more comfortably held.

“What're they doing?” Teddy asked, a little too loudly.

“Shhh,” Hermione said. “Neville just made a magical bond with Harry. Now Harry is doing the same with Ginny.” She couldn't hear the exact words of the spell, but she knew a spell of troth was often configured carefully. It wasn't like an unbreakable vow, but it was similar.

“Cause they're getting married?” Teddy whispered back.

Hermione wasn't sure what Tonks and Remus had told their son about the unusual commitment the three of them were making. She glanced back at Tonks, but she couldn't catch her eye. “Sort of,” she hedged.

“Will you witness it?” Harry asked the crowd.

Hurriedly, Hermione reached for her wand and raised it along with the rest of the room, letting her lumos join theirs. A momentary hush fell over the crowded room as the spell settled, and then everyone was milling around making noise again.

“Down!” Teddy demanded.

As Hermione set him back on the floor, she noted with slight dismay that his hair had gone all frizzy like hers.

“Hey, Ted,” Remus said, blocking his son before he could get very far. “Let's get you into your dress robes, okay?”

“I get to carry the rings!” Teddy declared.

“I heard that,” Hermione said. “It's a very important job.”

“I am not going to mess it up!” Teddy added, with just as much verve.

“We hope,” Remus muttered under his breath.

Hermione chuckled then turned to Tonks, who had come up behind her. She grinned, but Tonks was already taking Teddy's hand and leading him toward the Floo. She barely looked at Hermione and Hermione felt a weird sensation in her chest.

“See you in a bit at the… er… proper wedding,” Remus said as he followed his family through.

Hermione nodded but inside she suddenly felt a mix of anger and embarrassment that made her want to stomp and tell everyone what to do.

Harry was hugging literally everyone, so she let him hug her and that managed to take the edge off a little bit. Seeing Harry happy was one of her greatest pleasures, she found. He had spent so long so downtrodden and under threat. Seeing him giddy was fun. Ginny finally managed to pull him away from everyone and she found herself alone as everyone went through the Floo. She'd already gotten ready for the wedding. There was nothing to do but wait. At least she had her handbag, with her books. She wandered back to the courtyard and settled in to wait for an hour before she needed to be at the garden.

* * *

The wedding itself was a complete zoo. Hermione somehow made it through the motions of being attacked by photographers from the Prophet, Weasleys who still seemed confused that she wasn't joining the family any time soon, and a parade of influential Ministry officials who were just using the event to hobnob. Every third person wanted to talk about her new hairdo, which made her even more self-conscious about her shortened locks. It didn't help that the one person who she had wanted to like it hadn't said a word about it. In fact, Tonks was dancing with Teddy and her mother on the dance floor and hadn't said much more to her after the ceremony than she had that morning at Grimmauld Place.

She stood at the drinks table, looking across the garden, which was now approaching twilight, little fireflies charmed to swirl above it all. She wondered how much longer until cake. She'd said she would leave after cake. However, she hadn't dreamed it would take quite this long.

“Er… your hair looks really lovely, Hermione,” a voice said behind her. Hermione whirled around, half ready to tear into whoever had noticed her this time, only to be met with the site Hannah and Ron.

“Thanks, Hannah,” she managed.

Hannah's blond hair was pulled up in neat little braids with flapping little butterflies pinning them to her scalp and her dress robes were a pretty pale blue that shimmered as she moved. Even with her rosy coloring, she looked a bit ethereal.

“Yeah, it's pretty nice,” Ron added.

She really didn't want to, but she glared at him.

“How've you been?” Ron asked, either oblivious to the glare or determined to ignore it.

I am fucking an older woman, Hermione thought. It's glorious. She gets me off every time. But right now she's totally ignoring me. “I got promoted,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” Ron said. “I'm… er… leaving the aurors. I'm going to go work for George and run the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Hogsmeade.”

“Oh.”

“It'll be lovely,” Hannah said, with a warm smile. “We're going to buy a place in the village. Did you know there's a school there now? And a new garden? It'll be a perfect place to raise a family.”

Ron blushed, but he didn't contradict her. Hermione tried very hard not to glare at either of them, but she was pretty sure it just resulted in her whole face looking odd.

Hannah kept talking about Hogsmeade and the shop she'd be working in there. She studiously avoided mentioning the wedding, though Hermione was sure it was on her mind. It was only a few months away now.

She stared at Ron throughout, who looked back with something like pity, which just made her want to slug him. As she struggled to figure out how to escape, Neville arrived, took one of the bubbly glasses of punch from the table, and, after a tense look exchanged with Ron, asked if she'd dance with him.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, as they walked away.

“You clearly needed an escape route. We don't have to dance if you don't want to,” he added. “I'm hopeless with this sort of thing. Harry took me to a gay muggle nightclub and insisted we dance and that I could almost manage. You just shake around for hours on end and enjoy watching everyone shake too. But this,” Neville gestured to the way everyone was twirling around the floor, their feet moving in practiced steps. “I'm bollocks at this.”

“Just get me out of here,” Hermione begged.

“I know just the spot.”

It turned out that the big gazebo with the cakes underneath had a sort of secret second level. Neville waved his wand and a spiral stair appeared then faded again as the two of them walked up to a little balcony that overlooked the wedding.

“I, er, may have been hiding up here much of the afternoon,” Neville admitted. There was a healthy growth of blooming vines all over the balcony's edge, winding around the railings and a little bench up against the edge of the wall.

“Is everything… okay?” she asked.

Neville sighed. “It will be. It's been a rather harried week, honestly.”

Hermione leaned on the edge of the balcony rail, thrilled to watch the beauty of the garden while no one could see them on the charmed second floor. “It was beautiful, what I could see, this morning.”

Neville hummed.

“I noticed Ron didn't come.”

Neville sighed. When she turned, he had sunk down on the bench. “No, he didn't. Just one of many rows this week. The first of many. He told Harry it was improper.”

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione scowled and joined Neville on the bench.

“Yes, exactly. So now the two of them aren't speaking, except Ron came to the wedding and was best man and they're pretending that they're talking. How did you ever put up with them when they did this during school? They're both insufferable.”

“I'm afraid I may have participated a few times. And played go between for them when I shouldn't have,” Hermione admitted.

“Ginny tried, but it just led to a fight between her and Ron, then between her and Ron and Percy and George. I couldn't keep track of everything that happened after that. I mean, the Weasleys know, but… it's a bit like what you can't see can't really be happening. As long as we don't say anything, it's all fine.”

Hermione plucked a wayward firefly from the air above them and watched it crawl over her finger before heading off again. “Do you regret any of it, Nev?”

“Oh, no. I went through with the troth, didn't I? And this is really for Harry and Ginny today. They're going on a honeymoon and I get the entire house to myself, which, honestly, after everything, I'm a bit relieved. Still, it's not…” He gestured out at the party. “Jealousy is not always rational.”

“Oh, Merlin. It's really not,” she said, laughing suddenly. “I couldn't want Ron less now, but I think I nearly pulled Hannah's braids off her head or hexed her rosy cheeks earlier. Or...” she sighed. “I may have had distinctly murderous thoughts about Remus earlier when Tonks ignored me.”

“Ah,” Neville said. “It's easier for me, maybe. I know Harry loves us both. And that Ginny… well, that she and I have whatever it is we have now too. It's more about everyone else.”

The sun was just sinking down in the sky. The party really did looked beautiful, the guests in their finest trailing all through the early spring flowers, many of them charmed to bloom early.

“I think,” Neville's voice cracked slightly, “it's really everything else getting to me. Gran refused to come for this morning, you know.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Neville,” Hermione said.

He shrugged. “That was first number two. Or three? I'm losing count. She was going to come, but then some of my great-uncles and cousins convinced her to stay away. I've forever disgraced the name of Longbottom apparently.” He snorted. “And brought about the end of a great pureblood line.”

Hermione crinkled her nose.

“If I'd had any inclination to listen to them, that would have stopped me. I shouted that we'd just fought a war over their pureblood nonsense and that if I could help end it by not having children, that it was the least I could do.” Neville chuckled. “The funny thing is… Merlin, I shouldn't be telling you this, but… I'm a bit drunk and so tired and the love of my life is out there dancing with his new wife anyway, so...” Neville giggled. “The two of them had a giant row two nights ago. You should have seen Ginny. I thought she was going to call the whole wedding off.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked, surprised. She could just make out Ginny's red hair in the torchlight below them, peeking through the slats. Harry's messy mop of black was next to her, the two of them winding through the dance floor.

“They were two seconds away from having sex. She reached for her wand to do a prophylaxis charm and he goes, 'Don't. We'll be married soon anyway.'” Neville snorted. “I've never seen Gin so mad. She grabbed the wand anyway, hexed him with a jelly legs, and demanded to know what that was supposed to mean because she would not be used as a breeding machine.”

“Oh my,” Hermione could easily picture that. When Ginny got mad, she went from calm to enraged in seconds flat.

“I think…” Neville shrugged. “I think Harry is just so desperate for family. You have to mad to practically marry two people.”

“You're mad too, then,” Hermione pointed out.

“Yes, well,” Neville said. “They yelled a great deal, but it mostly got worked out. They're waiting a year and then Ginny's willing to take a break from the Harpies to have a baby. She wants to try and time the birth for the off season.”

“That's...” Hermione paused. “Wow.”

“Yes,” Neville said. “And, er… I don't know what will be made of such plans because who knows what will happen, but she… Well, we. We've agreed to three children. Two fathered by Harry and one...” Neville shrugged and gestured to himself. “So I suppose there might be more Longbottoms, or one other Longbottom anyway, one day.”

“Oh. Congratulations, Neville,” Hermione said. “I suppose?”

“Yes, I suppose. For several years hence if everything goes to plan. It's all so odd. I feel rather grown up, which is funny because all week I rather think Harry has been behaving like a childish brat, feuding with Ron and announcing willy nilly that Gin should start popping out babies. I'm chalking it up to wedding stress and trying to let it go. When he comes back from honeymoon, he and I are supposed to steal away to the shore for a couple of days. I think I'll feel better by then.”

Hermione could see Tonks, carrying Teddy, both of them with vibrantly red hair. Remus wasn't even around. She sighed too. Perhaps relationships didn't have to be perfect to be good. It was all confusing.

She grabbed Neville's hand. “It must have been hard for your Gran to not come.”

Neville nodded. “I don't want to think about it.” He paused, squeezing her fingers and placing his head on her shoulder. “Have you come out to your mum and dad yet?”

Hermione felt herself stiffen. They were only just back, still settling in. She'd gone to help them several times, but she felt a distance between them that was even greater than when she'd left for the wizarding world. She had been forced to send them away. She understood that. But maybe she'd been selfish to bring them back. Maybe they'd have been happier without her.

“Are you going to?” Neville asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I just haven't. It's… well, you know.”

“I don't know what it's like in the muggle world,” he said.

“About the same. Totally different.” Hermione shrugged. She didn't know how to explain how in the muggle world, it was no big deal to some people, and a cause for murder and disowning for others. In the wizarding world there was this whole tradition of people flamboyantly refusing to hide their quirks, whether it was their sexuality or anything else. But there was also a tradition of people falling in line to insure pureblood ideals. In the muggle world, it wasn't like that. People hid who they were instead. She especially didn't know how to begin explaining muggle religion to Neville, who had once been confused by her explanation of Jesus's birthday, insisting that they'd adopted some muggle word for the beginning of the winter solstice, since muggle astronomers were often misguided about the right date.

“I'll go with you, if you like,” Neville said. “Or Harry would. He'd do anything for you, you know.”

Hermione snuggled into him. “Or for you. You know that, right?”

She felt Neville nod.

“Oh, I think they're doing cake,” Neville said, after a few minutes.

“I'm not going back down there,” Hermione announced. She waved her wand and watched as two slices of cake drifted up, complete with tiny forks.


	9. Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot of smut. Plot advancing smut. Well, and just fun smut, I hope.
> 
> Warning: Tonks propositions Hermione in a way that makes her uncomfortable. Apologies are made. There is a bit of discussion of sexual assault and the need for enthusiastic consent at the end. Hermione and Tonks have a slightly different view of things.

It had been one of those really dull weeks, when not much happened. Winifred Birdwhistle had chewed out everyone in her department except Hermione, who had gotten a begrudging smile from her boss and mentor. However, as highlights went, it wasn't a great one. Harry was still away celebrating his whatever it was. Ginny was back at the Harpies and had played her first game back. Harry and Neville were on a beach somewhere happily being not quite married.

Tonks had owled her saying maybe they'd get together over the weekend. Hermione had tried to understand the mixed signals of that. She thought about her conversation with Neville atop the gazebo at the wedding. Things weren't perfect for him, Harry, and Ginny. But they were all still committed to each other anyway. There was a part of her that wanted to go to a muggle bookstore and clear out the entire section on relationships. She knew it wasn't good for her exactly. Just after she and Ron had split up, she'd tried to be organized about her love life and it had been one of her more disastrous ideas.

Still, as she headed up to her little flat of Diagon on Friday evening, she thought she might do just that. She could go find muggle clothes and head to a bookstore with her muggle money. The anonymity of it seemed appealing too.

But when she reached her door, she found Tonks leaning on it, her hair longer than usual, flowing back in beautiful, dark pink waves. She had on tight trousers and a sort of sparkly top that showed off the curve of her breasts.

“Hey,” Hermione breathed. “What are you doing here?”

“If I had to stay home one more minute,” Tonks said. “Well, I needed out of there. Glad you're home.”

“Yeah?” Hermione used the key on her flat door. Something about Tonks always made her feel slightly breathless and flirty. She'd always rolled her eyes at the way Lavender and Parvati would get all ditzy over their love interests. Now that she had the right love interest, she realized sometimes you just couldn't help it.

“Oh yeah,” Tonks grinned, following her inside.

Hermione set her purse on the table and caught sight of her Ministry robes in the hall mirror. “If we're going out, I should change.”

“Who said anything about going out?” Tonks said. She crowded Hermione up against the wall and ran her fingers over the smooth fabric of her robes. “Merlin. What I really want is for someone to get a good, hard fuck tonight.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. The way Tonks said that went right to the pit of her belly and warmed her between her legs. She hated how tongue-tied she got when Tonks was flirting with her, but she loved how it made her feel. And now that they'd done this enough times, she didn't feel all self-conscious and unsure. She could just enjoy it and think about how many times Tonks was going to make her come.

“Merlin and Morgan. Can I fuck you, beautiful Hermione?” Tonks was right up against her, body pressed so that the sequins of her top rubbed Hermione's dull robes. “Maybe like this?”

Tonks morphed. Her hair shortened, her body lengthened and hardened, her face became subtly more square. Where her legs pressed against Hermione, she could feel exactly how Tonks had changed. An erection pressed firmly to Hermione's thigh and Tonks's hands still rested on her robes, one of them at her arm and the other beneath her breast.

Hermione didn't really think. She didn't reach for her wand either. Wordless magic had never really been her thing. She knew Harry had gotten frighteningly good at it, but most of the things she worked on required scholarship or very complex spellwork of the sort you had to go through very slowly. However, she did know a few tricks.

The repelling charm might have been applied a little too strongly. Tonks, in her newly morphed body, flew back and hit the opposite hallway wall, just missing the mirror. At least she stood on her feet.

“Oh!” Hermione said. “I'm sorry. I...”

Tonks quickly straightened herself. “No, I'm sorry.” Her voice was slightly deeper this way. Hermione watched as she resumed her previous look, though she noted that her hair, while back to pink, stayed short. “I should have asked first. It's just… Look, I've had a rubbish day. I can go.”

“No!” Hermione said. “Please don't. I… Why can't there be...” She tried not to flush with embarrassment. “A good, hard fuck like this?”

“Yeah?” Tonks asked.

She nodded.

“Oh my beautiful girl. May I kiss you?”

“Yeah. Please.”

The kiss was long and soft, but slowly picked up speed as Tonks's tongue worked into her mouth and she began nipping at Tonks's lips.

“Maybe you should do the fucking,” Tonks suggested, tilting her head back as Hermione sucked hard kisses onto her skin. Tonks's skin colored so easily. It was surprisingly fun to see it redden and Tonks made such nice moans as she did it. She knew Tonks liked sex to be a little rough.

Hermione paused. “I can't do it the way you were suggesting before. Even if I had polyjuice, I wouldn't feel… I rather hate polyjuice, if you must know. And I don't know if I'd like to be… well, the ideas of Sigmund Freud aside, I don't particularly want to have a penis.”

“I don't know who Sigmund whatever is, but I wasn't suggesting polyjuice. Nah. I have something better. Something that I think you'd love to try.”

Tonks led the way to Hermione's bedroom. It was utilitarian, but Hermione had lately been trying to spruce it up. She'd bought two paintings from a street vendor on Diagon over the weekend and hung them up. Both featured landscapes that were simple but peaceful, with the breeze running over a small brook in one and shadows and light playing over a forest in the other. The bed was neatly made, but Tonks didn't pay any of it any mind. 

Tonks threw herself down on the bed and pulled her bag open, rummaging for just a moment and withdrawing two things. First, a bottle of lube, which Hermione recognized from one of their more adventurous evenings, when Tonks had made everything impossibly slick on both of them. She felt warm and wet just remembering that night.

Then Tonks pulled out a thick, purple thing with a sort of knot on one end. For a moment, Hermione looked at the thing in confusion, but then as Tonks practically leered at her and rotated it in her hand slightly, Hermione caught sight of the shape of the tip and felt her cheeks burn at the sight.

“Double sided,” Tonks said, gripping the knotty end.

“It's a dildo,” Hermione said, kicking herself for stating the obvious.

“Muggle made too,” Tonks said. “But there's a charm for holding it on just right. I made the magic myself.”

“Sex magic,” Hermione giggled.

“Sexy sex magic,” Tonks agreed. “Are you going to wear this for me? Give me the hard fuck I was talking about? I'd love to see this on you. You could hold me down and grind so hard into me that this thing would hit my fucking cervix.”

“Fuck,” Hermione said.

“That's the idea, yeah.” Tonks reached out with the dildo, handing it over.

It was heavy in Hermione's hand, the outside slightly smooth. It wasn't especially realistic looking. Not only was it purple, but it was thicker at the tip. Still, there was no mistaking the slightly mushroomed shape of the tip. She held it by the knotted end, which was ridged and thick.

Tonks sat up so that her legs were on either side of where Hermione stood at the edge of the bed. “I can tell you want to try it out. Let me get you naked and put it on you?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, her voice breathy as she thought about it.

Tonks laughed. She was always laughing during sex. She pulled Hermione into another kiss. Hermione enjoyed leaning over her. She let herself get lost in the kiss. She dropped the dildo on the bed and felt Tonks's breasts through the tiny sequins of her top. She did love Tonks's breasts. They were so perfectly round. There was something about feeling her way around their curves that made her burn inside. She liked all of Tonks's curves and wanted to run her fingers over all of them. The curve of her hips, the gentle curve of her belly when she laid on her side, the curve of her bottom when she was on her front.

Hermione climbed over her, letting her knees fall into the side of her bed. Tonks encouraged her, pulled her over top. But then her robes draped all over Tonks, covering up all of those beautiful curves and places that Hermione wanted to touch.

“Get naked, beautiful girl,” Tonks instructed.

“Only if you will too,” Hermione said, though she was already unfastening the robes and pulling them off. She had a little slip dress on beneath them, just like all the old witches wore under theirs.

Tonks laughed when she saw the old fashioned underthings and Hermione sighed. She still thought muggle bras were better because sometimes using magic, like to tie the back of your bras, seemed utterly over-complex. But these little white slips were made to go under work robes the way nothing in Marks and Spencer's could ever be.

“Stop laughing and untie me,” Hermione said.

“Bossy,” Tonks remarked, somehow turning the taunt that had bothered Hermione all through childhood into something surprisingly sexy. Tonks looked petulant as she said it. Hermione knew she was acting, just teasing her. 

Once she was naked, she shivered, glancing at the dildo with anticipation. However, instead of picking it back up, Tonks grabbed her hips and tugged her back down.

They ended up sideways, mouths tasting each other, hands brushing over breasts and hips, legs intertwined. Tonks's thighs were squeezed around one of Hermione's legs and she could feel how wet Tonks was, her damp curls pressed against her muscles, her legs squeezing rhythmically.

“I'm going to finger you first,” Tonks said into her ear after sucked her earlobe. “Rub your clit, make sure you're all wet and wanting. And then I'm going to ease that thing in you and suck it wet. That okay, beautiful Hermione?”

She tried to answer, but words failed her. Her yes came out as a moan.

“Yeah,” Tonks said. “Yeah.”

As she kept rubbing herself against Hermione's thigh, her fingers wove between them and carded through Hermione's mound, her middle finger stroking down across her clit, rubbing right at the tip before diving in between the folds of her labia, rubbing wetness all over. For a few minutes, Hermione lost herself as Tonks stroked over her, that finger hitting her at just the right spot and rocking in and out.

She moaned again.

“You're all ready now, aren't you?” Tonks asked.

“I want to fuck you with it,” Hermione said, holding herself back from her orgasm, prolonging it. “With the dildo.” Just the word felt dirty on her lips. She lightly bit Tonks's neck then kissed the reddened spot.

“Lay back then,” Tonks said.

She added lube to the bulbed, knotty end of the dildo then rubbed it across Hermione's entrance. It felt big and round and strangely divine. It was smoother and much bigger than Tonks's fingers. After a few minutes of it teasing across her already oversensitive clit, Hermione reached her hand down to cover Tonks's and pushed.

There was a little resistance where she felt suddenly too full, like it was going to be too big and too much. It felt like it was pushing all the air out of her.

And then it was over, and it was inside her.

“It's good?” Tonks asked, tugging it gently.

As she pulled, the knobby end pushed against a spot inside her that she hadn't realized was just right there. She glanced down and saw Tonks's fingers wrapped around the center of the long purple cock, which was now sticking straight out and up from between her legs.

“Oh,” she said, her voice pitched higher than she'd realized it would be. “Oh.”

“Yeah?” Tonks asked. “Yeah, go ahead and come, beautiful girl. Do it. Do it for me.”

Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away as Tonks's fingers stroked the dildo. Inside her, she felt it tug right against that same spot just inside. She felt so full.

Her muscles gripped and released of their own accord. She felt herself pulsing, the orgasm pushing all through her as Tonks kept her grip on the dildo and pumped the shaft.

As her orgasm passed, Hermione watched, fascinated as Tonks leaned over and lapped right at her clit. She was oversensitive, but it pushed her past the waves of pleasure and into wanting more again, wanting her orgasm to crest and peak again.

However, before it could, Tonks's tongue stopped licking and she swallowed much of the purple dildo down her throat.

With what was left of her ability to think and reason in this state, Hermione thought about how odd it was. She had meant it when she'd said she didn't think she had penis envy. The idea of polyjuice for sex, something she knew others tried occasionally, really didn't appeal to her. If anything, it turned her off. Yet appreciating the sensations as this Horntail sized cock that looked like it was protruding from her, was surprisingly sexy. She could feel it moving inside her, yet she also felt like it was outside her, as if that were really her that was being sucked by Tonks.

She ran her fingers over Tonks's cheeks.

“Let me...” she wasn't sure what word she wanted exactly, but she was trying to be forceful. Tonks had wanted forceful. “Let me take you,” she tried.

Tonks popped off the dildo, her lips swollen and her eyes lidded and moist with the start of tears. “Don't use your fingers. Just a little bit of the lube. I want to feel it.”

Tonks laid back and Hermione tried to get in position, but as she got to her knees, the heaviness of the dildo surprised her. Even though she clenched her muscles to try and hold it, it began to slip out.

“I've got it,” Tonks said. “Remember? Magic?” She fumbled to grab her wand and pointed it at the base of the dildo. Hermione didn't catch the whispered spell, but she felt it slot perfectly in place. As she removed her hands, she could fell the heavy weight of it pulling gently right on that spot inside her, as if it were attached to it. It tugged lightly on her clit and bobbed up and down as she moved, the sensation of gentle pulling making her groan.

“Yeah?” Tonks said. “Morgan, that's sexy. Think you can get me off like that?”

She dropped her wand and laid back. Her legs were spread out wide and one knee was lifted. “Come on, beautiful girl. Fuck me.”

“Now who's bossy?” Hermione asked.

“Both of us,” Tonks said. “Two bossy, beautiful girls.”

Hermione laughed a little, but she got to business, squeezing a few drops of lube onto the head of the purple cock. Then she held the base of the dildo and lined it up.

Watching Tonks breathe heavily in long panting breaths was enough to make her aroused all over again. Tonks looked like she was being utterly dominated. Pulling her hand away from the dildo, Hermione grabbed one wrist and held it down to the bed.

“Yeah,” Tonks said, though Hermione couldn't tell if that was for the hand or way she was sliding inside her.

She couldn't actually feel it, getting this fake cock sheathed inside her lover. However, she could feel the way it tugged on her insides and felt heavy charmed to sit right on her clit. She watched it disappear inside Tonks's spread legs, the folds of her labia closing around it, sucking it deeper.

“Oh, god,” Hermione whispered as she pushed in. Eventually she had to move her fingers out of the way, but the charm was working well. It was snugly attached to her, moving with her, yet with enough give to make her feel it as well. She leveraged her arms and pulled her hips back to feel it really tug on her, rubbing exactly on the right spot inside her, where the knobby end had made her come just minutes before. Then she pushed back in and delighted as her clit rubbed hard against the base.

She let out a broken moan. This was supposed to be for Tonks. Tonks was the one beneath her, getting fucked. She had wanted it rough and hard. Hermione had already gotten off once. But she desperately needed to come again. She could feel it building in her. She pushed forward deeper then pulled back again.

“Yeah,” Tonks said, her breaths panting. “Yeah, just like… yeah. Keep going.”

Their needs were coinciding, Hermione realized. They both wanted the same thing. The delicious drag of the dildo against their inside walls and then the hard push of it back inside. Apart, together, apart, together. Back and forth, back and forth. In and out, in and out. The more she did it, the more intense she felt.

Her orgasm made her hips stutter with short bursts of thrusts as she rubbed her clit a little more, a little more, and there, there, there it was. Tonks's fingers were on her hips, urging her on, so she kept going, kept up the in and out, the thrusting back and forth. As they pulled apart a little, they both breathed in, and as they crashed back together, the dildo pushing each of them harder inside, they breathed out in unison, the air pressed out of them.

Hermione felt her pleasure crest again, a smaller wave than the first two. She kept rocking back and forth, watching Tonks, seeing her face tighten, then release, then tighten again.

It lasted longer than she could keep track of. It had either been two minutes or twenty or maybe two hours. Tonks had made her feel intense orgasms, but this one just kept coming in little waves even after the big pleasure had left her.

Tonks's moan was constant. Hermione had no idea if she'd come yet. She pushed in harder to more moans. She could tell she'd be sore later, but she hardly cared. Harder, deeper, pushing, pushing.

She pulled back and braced herself on her left hand, reaching the right one between them. Merlin and Morgan, but Tonks had morphed all her hair away. She was slick everywhere and the swollen bud of her clit was right there, the base slightly hardened to the touch.

Remembering Tonks's need for rough and wanting so much to give her lover exactly what she needed, Hermione twisted her fingers and pinched her right on the tip of her clit, a hard pinch.

Tonks screamed, but rather than batting Hermione's hand away or pulled back, her legs wrapped around Hermione's legs and she breathed out a ragged breath. “Again,” she pleaded.

So Hermione teased her slick clit for just seconds before pinching one more time.

Beneath her, Tonks cried out, a sharp moan that turned low and long.

“Yes,” she babbled. “Yes, yes, yes… Hermione. Oh, my… oh...” 

Hermione gasped and felt a final wave of pleasure run over her. Tonks's own orgasm seemed to go on forever as Hermione kept rubbing her clit and rocking her hips hard.

* * * 

Tonks was curled behind her. Hermione could see her fingers playing idly over her breasts, even thumbing over her nipples. It was almost too much, especially for how spent and sensitive she felt. But it also felt amazing, like the last bits of pleasure were still being milked out, just very slowly. The purple dildo was out, laying on the side table and Hermione felt the reminder of arousal just looking at it.

“Earlier,” Tonks began, “I just wondered… you don't have to tell me, obviously, but you had quite a reaction. You're not interested in blokes at all, are you?”

Hermione was surprised to find that Tonks was right, but it was beyond obvious by that point. “I don't think I am,” she said.

“Did… did something happen to you? Did Ron ever…?”

It was unlike Tonks to be hesitant about anything. Her fingers moved to Hermione's middle, cradling instead of playing now.

“No,” Hermione said quickly.

“Oh. Right then,” Tonks said.

“I know what you're saying,” Hermione bristled. “Don't beat around the bush about it. Ron never raped me. He would never. He isn't anything like that.”

“That's a pretty strident refusal there.”

“What are you trying to say?” Hermione demanded, pulling away and flipping around so she could face Tonks.

Tonks laid back on her back. “Nothing. Methinks the lady doth protest a lot is all.”

“You don't know anything about it,” Hermione snapped.

“You're right, I don't.”

“So then don't say anything!”

“I'm done,” Tonks said.

They both lay there like that for awhile, but for some reason, it wouldn't let Hermione go.

“I never stopped him, even when it wasn't good. That's… it's my own fault,” she said. As soon as the words were out, she wanted to cram them back in.

“Oh, Hermione,” Tonks said, her voice sadder than Hermione could ever remember hearing it.

“I'm serious!” she defended. “I didn't know what I wanted. He was always so… He cared about me!”

“Yeah, I'm sure he did.”

“Stop that!” she snapped, sitting up in the bed. “He never assaulted me. That's preposterous.”

Tonks nodded. “You can think that. It's probably true. I'm still going to think he's a git if you don't mind.”

Hermione started to say something, but it got stuck in her throat and by the time she'd pushed past it, she had forgotten what it was in the first place.

“When I was at Hogwarts, there was a boy I liked in Gryfindor. At the start of seventh year, he finally asked me out and I thought it'd be brilliant. Except it wasn't. He was just fascinated by the idea that I could have big tits or really anything he might like. Some people are like that. They think the metamorph thing is sexy or something. We fucked in one of the unused tower classrooms and he called me freak repeatedly. I felt like rubbish after we'd done it.”

“Ron never did that to me,” Hermione said.

“I'm sure he didn't,” Tonks said. “That's not the point. The point is that this bloke asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him and wanted to have at it again in the old abandoned dress shop down at the end of the main street. And I let him. It wasn't until we were all lined up to go back to school and he called me a weirdo that Charlie Weasley, who was one of his roommates, surged out of nowhere and hexed him that I realized what a mistake I'd made.”

“Oh.” Hermione could picture Charlie Weasley doing just that.

“I didn't know what I wanted either. He was a complete twit, which is why Charlie hit him with a freckle pus hex. He'd been talking about me in the dorms, I guess, and Charlie'd had enough. Just because I wasn't clear didn't make how he acted fine.”

“But Ron...”

“But nothing. He may not have meant it, but it doesn't mean he didn't hurt you.”

Hermione sat in silence for a minute as Tonks wormed her way back down into her pillow.

“Come back to bed, beautiful girl,” Tonks said. “I didn't mean to make you upset either and it's not often I get a sleepover.”

Hermione let out a harsh breath, but laid back down. Tonks curled up, pushing her face to Hermione's shoulder, planting kisses.

Her head kept going though. It was always hard to stop thinking. After a long time, she finally spoke again, quietly. “I think the worst part is that we're not friends anymore, not really. He was my best mate – he and Harry both. And now we don't even talk. And when we do, I think about… regrets and feel angry and uncomfortable. It's awful.”

Tonks didn't say anything, so Hermione turned and realized she was mostly asleep. “He's a git,” Tonks repeated, her speech half slurred with sleep.

Hermione sighed. Tonks didn't really understand. As Hermione turned it all over in her head, she thought she understood what Tonks was trying to tell her about how he wasn't let off the hook just because she hadn't been clear enough in her objections. Once they had sex the first time, he'd always taken it for granted in a way that wasn't right at all. She shouldn't have let him, but he was still the one to blame for that. 

But the mistakes that she and Ron had made were something she wanted to let go of. With the more rational part of her brain, she hated that she'd lost his friendship more than anything. She felt as close to Harry as ever, but Ron hadn't even come when Harry, Ginny, and Neville had promised their troth. She wondered if there was some invisible line between queer people and straight people that she had somehow crossed and would never be able to cross back. She'd crossed another line, years ago, the moment her Hogwarts letter had come. She'd said goodbye to the muggle world and hello to the wizarding one. Only now her parents were on the other side of the line.

Now she was awake properly and knew she wouldn't get to sleep, but Tonks was out cold, her face slack and her mouth slightly open against the side of the pillow. The pink of her hair was faded and her skin was more olive in the low light.

Hermione furrowed her brow. Tonks had never said why her day had been so terrible in the first place.

Finally, Hermione gave up on sleep and got up to read a book, feeling terrible that she had wasted their rare overnight together. She fell asleep with the muggle novel about women in space. When she woke up on the sofa, Tonks was already gone, without even having left a note. The purple dildo was clean and sitting on her bedside table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS - Good news, dear readers. I have two more chapters of this basically finished. And then a couple more to the end. Which is basically to say, I'm pretty sure I'll finish this within the next couple of months. I always feel guilty about my incomplete fics. But I got all motivated for this one.


	10. Kind of a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added this one not long after the previous chapter and I'm about to add yet another. So just check your spot if you're unsure...

Hermione sat across from her parents in their new sitting room. It wasn't bad at all. In fact, there was a view of the village down the hill that was sort of picturesque from up here. But it wasn't the sitting room of her childhood, with the old teak chest from her grandmother or the strange paintings her parents had bought in Morocco in their youth or the little models of tooth decay from their first practice. She was afraid to even ask where those things were. They hadn't been important to Monica and Wendell Wilkins, only to Jasmine and Elliot Granger.

She set her teacup down on the saucer and tried to smile.

“But I thought you were dating the red haired boy,” her mother said.

“I was,” Hermione said. “This is part of why it didn't work out.”

Her mother tried to smile back and their faces met, forced smile to forced smile.

“Is it a wizarding sort of thing?” her father asked.

“I think it's just a people thing,” Hermione said.

“But, I mean, are your people accepting?”

“Mostly,” Hermione said.

They all finished their tea and biscuits. Then her parents gave her lots of hugs and kind words she didn't feel like she deserved.

“Come bring anyone you like by, won't you, darling?” her mother asked repeatedly.

“We could still get grandchildren,” her father suggested. “My new assistant and her partner just had a baby. They used a sperm donor.”

“Oh, well,” Hermione had said, uncomfortable.

“Elliot,” her mother scolded. “She's still getting settled in her career. And I don't think she's even seeing anyone.”

Hermione nodded, knowing she couldn't bring or explain Tonks. The guilt of everything always pressed on her when she saw her parents now. It was so irrational. She had made herself be so rational when she'd stolen their lives. It was unfair that she couldn't seem to close it off now, during peacetime.

It was coming on evening, but she apparated back to London to just outside the public entrance to the Ministry and headed back upstairs to her office. Nearly everyone was leaving for the day, but Hermione pulled out her law texts and began going over some of the points of the Ministry's case for changing the legal guidelines about property ownership. They were due into the Wizengamot to argue their case for reform in just over a week.

Just when she was sure she was alone, and able to deal with the notes in peace, she heard a rustling and the tall form of Winifred Birdwhistle appeared by her door. She looked at Hermione with her characteristic sour face. Hermione's boss was always an imposing figure. She was taller than most men and her hair, which Hermione knew she kept charming to stay black, despite her obvious age, was in a long braid that created a huge bun right atop her head. She kept her wand tucked there. Hermione could see the carved feathers of the handle poking out.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked. “I believe you left.”

“Sorry, Freddie,” Hermione said. “I just needed to work.”

“Oh no you don't,” Freddie insisted. “Up with you now. Work is not a way to avoid life, my dear.”

Hermione felt shivery inside. “I'm not avoiding life. I just had a difficult day. I need...”

“I thought you went to see your parents.”

The shivery feeling became a shaky one. “I did. I told them I'm a lesbian.”

She didn't chat much about her personal life at the Ministry. Some people did, but she tried very hard to stay above gossip. Sometimes, lately, it felt like a cage she kept herself inside, unable to be herself at work. She'd never come out to anyone at work. She braced herself.

“Oh, goodness,” Freddie's stiff voice softened slightly. “They weren't cruel, were they? I understand muggles can be religious and intolerant.”

“Oh no,” Hermione said. “Not at all. They love me very much.” That was true. “I just had to hide them in the war and I still feel terrible about it. Their whole lives have been thrown into chaos. And then I go and...”

Freddie harrumphed. “Hermione, I don't like when people try to coast on past achievements. Everyone in my department must pull their weight and not rely on things like having been quidditch stars or been awarded a war medal.” Freddie waved her hand as if war medals were tish tosh nothing that anyone could get. “But we all know you were the brains behind that empty-headed young man who supposedly saved us all. And you don't take enough credit for it.”

“Harry's not empty-headed,” Hermione objected.

Freddie made a dismissive noise. “I'm trying to pay you a compliment. Do me the favor of taking it. Too many of us lost family in the war. I lost my darling Fran because she was muggleborn. Nearly fifty years together gone in a killing curse.”

Hermione felt her eyes go wide and her breath, already uneven from the events of the day, hitch. “I didn't know...”

Freddie made another dismissive noise. “My point is that you still have your parents. Stop carrying around whatever guilt it is you're carrying. I would have been thrilled for my own mother to have given a gnome's behind for Fran or me. You're quite lucky.” She paused and straightened her robes. “Now, I am going to dinner with a good friend. I believe you have a someone or other who might do a better job of comforting you than some elderly old witch at your job.”

“Oh, Freddie, you're so much more than that,” Hermione objected. “Without you, I wouldn't even have this promotion and I wouldn't...”

Freddie turned. “Goodnight, Miss Granger,” she insisted.

“Goodnight, Miss Birdwhistle,” Hermione returned formally, standing up and shoving the papers back in their folder.

She didn't send an owl. She just headed out the Floo to Hogsmeade then walked down the road, past the little village school to Remus and Tonks's. When she got there, she rapped quietly, though it wasn't so late that Teddy should have been in bed. The last rays of early summer sun were still lingering on the edge of the horizon.

Tonks looked tired and mildly overwhelmed when she answered the door. She was in torn muggle jeans and a T-shirt. Behind her, she could see Teddy literally running in circles and a mess of toys strewn across the floor.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Hermione wanted to run forward and grab her and kiss her. Not as a prelude to anything, but just because she wanted to. Even weary and overwhelmed with mum life, Tonks was stunning.

“I just wanted to see you,” Hermione said. She thought of Winnifred Birdwhistle's entreaty that she go see her friends. Tonks was who she most wanted to be with. “I had a bit of a day.”

Tonks snorted. “Tell me about it. I worked this morning. Remus didn't bother to come home. There are no students up there, but for some reason I'm here alone to deal with this mess. My mum gave Teddy too many sweets and this is the result. Sorry, lovely Hermione, but I think I'm up to my ears in it.”

“No,” Hermione said. “I don't mind. I'll help you tidy. Or distract Teddy for you.”

Tonks shook her head. “No. No need. I'll manage. Go get a pint and I'll owl you about next week, right?”

Hermione smiled. “Yeah, it's just...”

At that moment, there was a crash in the back of the house and Tonks sighed. “See you next week. I hope.” She shut the door, leaving Hermione standing there in the faded light feeling empty.

“It's just that I want to help,” she whispered to the closed door.

Hermione wandered out toward the high street. She passed Scrivenshaft's and the new tailor's and almost made it to the Three Broomsticks. The weather was unseasonably warm for early summer, especially up in the mountains. It promised to be a hot season at this rate. She stood in the lane, watching the few people who were out in the light from the streetlamp.

“Hermione?” Padma Patil smiled at her hesitantly and tilted her head as if evaluating her. She had on a sort of smock over slightly mismatched muggle clothes. There was a funny silk top and a pair of men's trousers. “Are you all right?”

Hermione looked back at her.

Suddenly Padma seemed self-conscious. “Oh, I forgot. I'm so embarrassed. It's for work, you see? When we teach we're supposed to wear these.” She pulled the funny checkered smock over her head. “I wasn't even teaching, just tidying and writing curriculum with Madam Beaumont. It's just that it's still a bit dusty in there and… Oh, sorry. I'm prattling on, aren't I? Sorry!”

Without the smock, Padma looked less mismatched and her silky shirt and loose trousers looked rather fetching. She was always stylish, sort of like Tonks. Hermione felt her eyes well up without any reason.

“Oh! I'm sorry. I… are you all right?”

“No,” Hermione burst out. She shook her head. “I'm sorry, Padma. I need to go.”

“Do you want to get a drink? We could talk about it. I might...”

Hermione shook her head. “No. I should go.”

She pulled out her wand and, thanking whatever luck she had, she apparated right from there, glad she didn't need to bother finding a private spot.

She popped back into London, her magic suddenly weary with all the back and forth. She rapped on the door at Grimmauld Place, suddenly sure that no one would be home. It was a Friday night. They were probably out on the town. Or already in bed in some configuration she didn't even understand.

But the door opened almost immediately. It was Ginny.

“Oh, hello, Hermione. Are you all right?”

What must she look like, she wondered. Ginny asking somehow bothered her more than Padma, but either way, there was no use in lying.

“Not really. Is… Harry here?” She suddenly realized the impropriety of asking for Harry or Neville. She may as well tell Ginny she'd happily talk to anyone but her.

“Just me tonight,” Ginny said cheerfully. If she picked up on Hermione's reticence to talk to her, she didn't show it. “Come on in. The boys went out.”

“I can… I don't...”

“Don't be silly. Harry would get in a strop if he thought I'd turned you away when you were upset. Please? For me?”

So Hermione went inside.

In her mind, Ginny was always the center of the party. It was hard to believe she'd be in alone on a Friday evening, wearing muggle style track suit bottoms and an oversized Harpies shirt that she suspected belonged to Neville. Her hair, which had been growing out all the way up to the wedding, was clipped short into a little bob again.

“Firewhiskey?” she asked.

“Oh, I don't…”Hermione began.

“Come have a drink with me. We'll sit in the garden.”

It took Hermione a little while, and two glasses of firewhiskey, before she realized how very hard Ginny was trying. Everything always seemed so effortless for Ginny. She remembered when they were both so young and Ginny had been her younger friend that she tried to give advice to, about letting go of her crush on Harry and how to best study for potions exams. But Ginny had so quickly surpassed her in the romance department and then had been such an ace on a broom, that Hermione had realized somewhere along the way that she was completely unnecessary and that Ginny was one of those popular girls she'd never gotten along with.

But here was Ginny, talking so much, about her honeymoon to Italy with Harry, about a conflict she'd had with one of the other Harpies players, about how her mother was hassling her, and suddenly, as she talked about how cute Neville was when he was drunk, Hermione blurted out, “I came out to my parents today.”

Then she laughed. “Morgan's tits, I don't feel like I'm supposed to be upset about it. We're all supposed to be so cool and fine with everything, right? It's no big deal. And I am, I mean, it isn't, but...”

Ginny surged forward and gave her a hug, nearly knocking the garden furniture backwards.

“Oh, stop trying so hard!” Hermione said. “I forgive you for whatever it is.”

Ginny laughed and went back to her own chair, and Hermione laughed too. Somehow the laughter and the third pint of firewhiskey opened up the floodgates and soon Hermione found herself talking about Tonks.

“Did she not want me there? Am I just nothing? Just a fuck? And it's...” she burned all over thinking about the purple dildo and the taste of Tonks's juices on her tongue and all the dirtiest things they'd ever done. Tonks had left the dildo for her and it had become one of her favorite ways to masturbate in just a couple of short weeks.

“It's what?” Ginny asked.

“The fucking. It's good,” Hermione said. “Merlin and Morgan, it's so good, Ginny. Her tongue is just… and her fingers are… and her fanny is...” Even most of the way to drunk, she felt her cheeks burn.

“Oh, Hermione! You're so gone on her,” Ginny said.

“Fuck. I am. I am totally gone,” Hermione said. “And she's married. And she doesn't want me there. I would have picked up all of Teddy's toys and helped her make supper and I don't even need to have sex. I just… want that.”

“Have you told her that?”

“She's married!”

“Well, so am I!” Ginny laughed. She waved her ring in front of her face quickly, as if to remind herself that she really was. “I think three people are the optimum number in a relationship.”

Hermione snorted.

“No, really!” Ginny said. “If it was just me and Harry, we'd drive each other mad. He would be needy and I'd be bossy and we'd just bring out the worst in each other. Plus, there's only so many times a girl can get off with a strap on. I'd much rather watch Neville fuck him than do it myself.”

Hermione nearly coughed up her last drink of firewhiskey. “Maybe you need a better strap on,” she suggested. Then she coughed again, embarrassed by her own words. “Oh my god, I'm really pissed.”

“I can't believe I ever called you uptight. On the agenda with Hermione, compare toys.”

Hermione took another drink, finishing her glass. “Oh my god,” she said again.

“You're saying muggle swears,” Ginny teased. “Seriously, do you think Tonks and Remus do threesomes? Would you ever…?”

Hermione had a flash of sitting in Professor Lupin's classroom at age thirteen and she shook her head violently. “Oh, no. No.”

“It's fun to watch too, you know.”

Hermione shook her head again. The very idea of watching Remus have sex gave her all the wrong sort of shivers.

“He's fit for an older bloke,” Ginny suggested.

“It's not… he was our professor!” Hermione said. “And… I don't think I'll ever really want to be with a man again. Did you know that sometimes Tonks makes herself into a bloke? She wanted to have sex like that and I said no.”

“Really?” Ginny sounded fascinated.

Hermione tried to take another sip of her drink, only to realize it was empty. A tiny drop burned down her throat and she set it down on the edge of the patio. “I kept thinking it was… maybe it would be like you three. But maybe it's nothing like that.” She felt weepy.

“Well, you don't know until you talk to her,” Ginny reasoned. “When Harry first started seeing Neville, I told him it was all right, but then I got a bit jealous and… well, I came over when I knew they'd both be here. I don't know what I thought was going to happen. But instead, we talked and then we all got drunk and naked and put Harry in the middle. I don't think I've ever seen him so happy as that night. It took Nev and I awhile to figure it all out. He doesn't like women normally, but we… well, we get each other off sometimes. Harry likes to watch us kiss. I forget the point. Oh, that's right. We had to talk about it. You should talk to her.”

“Neville said you're going to have his babies,” Hermione giggled.

“Baby, single,” Ginny said, then laughed. “Morgan's tits, I can't believe I've agreed to any of that. I do want to be a mum, I do. I just don't know if I'm ready. Even a year from now! It's Harry who's so on about it. He told me he'd take leave from his job so I could keep flying. I was like, you complete knob, you can't carry the baby for me! My whole body's going to get out of shape!”

“I want to be a mum too,” Hermione said. “And cut crusts off sandwiches and read all my favorite muggle picture books aloud.”

“Morgan, look at you. You should have Harry's babies.” Ginny reached over and drained the last of the bottle, splitting it between her own glass and Hermione's, which she lifted from the patio floor and handed back to her. “Oh! I know. If Tonks can be a bloke, can you have her babies? How perfect would that be?”

Hermione groaned. “She's said Teddy wasn't exactly planned. I know she loves him to death, but I don't know if she even wants more children. I don't even know what I'm talking about. It's not like I want to be a mum tomorrow either.”

“That's why you have to talk to her!” Ginny insisted.

By the time they finished off the last drops of firewhiskey, they went back inside to the kitchen to raid it for food. Ginny was laughing so hard about Hermione's explanation of dentistry that she nearly snorted curry from her nose when Harry and Neville walked in.

“What in the world?” Harry asked. Hermione glanced around and realized that in raiding the kitchen, they really had made a mess. “I thought you were going to have a quiet evening in,” he said to Ginny.

“I'm bollocks at that,” Ginny said cheerfully.

“I'd help clean up, but...” Hermione looked around.

“Please don't,” Neville said. “I think you're too powerful to do magic pissed.”

That made both Hermione and Ginny burst into giggles again.

“Hermione has had a day,” Ginny announced. “She came out to her mum and dad, did not get a shag from her girlfriend, and it was very important that I help her get this pissed.”

Harry glanced between them and chuckled. “Right. I'll make up the guest room then. Do you need a sober up or...” He sighed. “Just get enough of the rice from the curry to sop it all up, yeah?”

“I love you, Harry,” Hermione said. “I mean...” She glanced at Ginny.

“I love you too, Harry,” Ginny said.

“Oh, shut it,” Harry said. “The whole bloody wizarding world loves me.”

“He's not full of himself at all,” Neville observed, rolling his eyes as Harry headed up the stairs to the bedrooms.


	11. Heat Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading many chapters at once. Just... make sure you kept your place if you care.

The summer turned so warm that the little pebbly beach on the edge of the lake opposite Hogwarts opened up. Hermione heard a lot of older witches and wizards talking about the last time it was warm enough. “Back in '82!” one bearded wizard exclaimed at the edge of the water. He was so elderly that Hermione genuinely wasn't sure if he meant 1982 or 1882.

The entrance fee went to the lifeguard, a young woman in a sort of old fashioned bathing suit that looked more like a puffy dress than something to swim in. In fact, all the wizarding bathing suits had both Harry and Hermione in stitches.

“What?” Neville asked, looking down at his own bathing trunks, which were like tiny overalls across his bare chest. “It's just swim trunks.”

Harry burst out laughing so hard that he ended up with tears in his eyes.

“I thought you two went to the shore together,” Hermione said. It was funny, she realized. She hadn't been swimming in ages. She'd had to buy a new suit, but she'd gone to Marks and Spencer's because when she looked in the window at the dress shop on Diagon, the magically impervious fabrics shaped into little bloomers were too silly. Now she felt slightly underdressed, though at least Ginny's choice of magical suit showed her entire midriff, which was more than Hermione's rather simple white one piece.

Harry waved his wand at the little beach tent, letting it fall into place to give them some shade. “Er… we didn't do much swimming.”

She closed her eyes. “Harry,” she said.

“We did go in the water,” Harry defended. “But it was a private beach, so...”

“Sand,” Hermione said.

“You're the one who's always reminding me I'm a wizard,” he shot back. “A good impervious charm works very well on your backside. In case you're in need.”

The atmosphere at the little beach was festive. The lifeguard walked back and forth, mostly maintaining the charms against any merpeople coming to disrupt the fun. Hermione was glad she had taken the weekend to join Harry, Ginny, and Neville. The quidditch season was on its midsummer break and Ginny wasn't good enough to play in the English exhibition game against Italy. There were lots of families from Hogsmeade out and lots of great people watching to be had. The four of them got into the cool water and splashed around, then retreated to their little beach cabana and ate the picnic Neville had packed, complete with lemonades and butterbeers that Hermione shot freezing charms at.

“Him,” Ginny said, gesturing to a wizard in long, tight swim trunks and a bare chest with visible muscles.

“Goodness,” Harry said. “If he wins your most attractive on the beach, I'm ever so sorry you got stuck with me.”

Ginny looked over at Harry's skinny form. “Nev has muscles.”

“Not like that,” Neville said, flexing his thick, muscular arms. Neville had once told her that working at the gardens had made his arms strong because he was terrible at levitation charms and often ended up moving wheelbarrows and bags full of rocks and dirt himself.

“Can we please stop objectifying everyone?” Hermione asked.

“No,” Ginny said. “But we can objectify some girls if you like.”

“I wouldn't mind that,” Harry put in.

“Quiet, you,” Ginny said. “This is for Hermione.”

“I have zero opinions about this exercise,” Neville added.

“You had an opinion about the bloke over there,” Harry teased, gesturing to a young man with dreadlocks and a broad smile who was playing some sort of game with his friends involving taking a broom over the water and jumping off.

Neville shrugged.

“Attraction isn't about looks,” Hermione said.

Everyone else in the cabana laughed.

“Hermione, I'm not, well, I'm not that,” Neville gestured out to the muscled bloke Ginny had praised a moment ago then looked down at his own body, which was tall and thick everywhere. “And I won't ever be. But looks matter. You know they do.”

“I think you look smashing,” Harry said.

“Thanks, Harry,” Neville replied.

Hermione sighed and dug her foot into the pebbly sand and sloshed her cold butterbeer in its bottle.

“What about her?” Ginny pointed to a young witch who looked like she was possibly fresh out of Hogwarts. She was skinny, with long auburn hair and a flowing, silky robe over a muggle style swimsuit that showed off long legs.

“Mmm,” Harry hummed.

“I don't know her,” Hermione said. “Yes, she looks like she could be in a magazine, but she might be a Slytherin blood purist who beats her house elves for fun for all I know.”

“You're better than all of us,” Harry said, nudging her foot in the sand with his own.

“I'm not trying to be better than anyone,” she objected. “I'm just… telling it like it is.” She thought about Tonks. Tonks was beautiful, but she could look like anyone. If Tonks had come to her with her face all broken out in pimples or her body heavy with extra weight or her eyes uneven or something, she'd still happily make love to her, she'd still happily want her in her life. It wasn't so complex.

“Look, there's girls you know,” Ginny said, pointing to the water, where Hermione could see Mandy Brocklehurst, Susan Bones, Padma Patil, and another young woman she didn't recognize, all letting the little waves lap at their feet. All four of them were in varying sorts of the funny witches bathing suits that had put herself and Harry into stitches earlier. Mandy had on a swim cap. Padma looked like she'd stepped right out of a 19th century catalog, complete with stripes and a little skirt. It looked rather darling on her, Hermione thought.

“Ooh, who are you looking at?” Ginny demanded.

“No one,” Hermione said, irritated.

At that moment, a small figure suddenly came barreling into their cabana, knocking over the levitating picnic into the sand.

“Hey, it's my favorite godson!” Harry said, pulling Teddy into his lap.

Hermione waved her wand at the picnic, scourgifying the sand away and sending it packing back into the basket.

Remus's face peeked into the cabana. He looked amusingly out of place on the beach in loose swim trousers and a slightly tattered jumper with robes atop all that. Teddy, at least, was in muggle trunks. He was now sporting a lightning scar like Harry's and had stolen is godfather's glasses.

“You didn't tell me you were coming to the lake,” Harry said, squinting in Remus's general direction.

“You didn't tell me either,” Remus returned, his lips quirking in a smile.

“Touche,” Harry said.

“Come on, I'm going to dunk you in the water!” Harry exclaimed, picking Teddy up and holding him upside down as he grabbed his glasses and replaced them on his face.

Teddy laughed and protested, and laughed some more as Harry swung him back and forth and headed down the little beach.

“He is going to be an amazing dad,” Neville said to Ginny, who nodded and sighed.

Hermione ended up sitting with Harry as he helped Teddy build a massive sandcastle. The sand wasn't exactly the right sort for it, so she repeatedly had to use replication charms on the finer grained stuff. Harry was amusingly enthusiastic for it, helping Teddy build the sort of sand castle that only a wizard could build, with a working moat and little turrets and tunnels that should have collapsed on any muggle beach. In the end, both Harry and Teddy were essentially covered in mud, so Harry dragged his godson back into the lake.

“James would have done that,” Remus said, sinking down next to Hermione. “The little working trebuchet in the castle. He would have thought of just the same thing.”

Hermione smiled. Remus often sounded so sad whenever she talked to him and she was never quite sure how to deal with it. “Where's Tonks today?” She didn't mean to be intrusive, she was just curious. Tonks had owled her that she would be busy all weekend. Hermione had been trying to work out how to talk to her for the last few weeks. They gotten together twice more, but somehow it had turned into silliness and sex. Neither date had been for more than a couple of hours. She knew she was being a bit of a coward, but she hadn't wanted to waste it either.

Remus snorted. “She's got a new lover somewhere or other. They're off for the weekend together. She said he was quite something.”

Remus's words were like a slap across her face. She froze where she had been idly decorating one of the castle towers with pebbles.

Remus looked over at her and immediately sensed something was wrong. “Oh, Merlin. I'm sorry, Hermione. I thought you knew we had an open marriage. I didn't mean to shock you.”

Hermione bit her lip and avoided meeting Remus's eyes. Oh god, she thought, I'm going to cry.

“I… sorry, I need to...” She managed to get herself up, suddenly annoyed that she was covered in sand and muck from sitting at the edge of the lake. Where could she go to disapparate? Did she leave anything important in the cabana? If she managed to go back there, would everyone immediately know she was distraught?

She felt so foolish, like a child.

She wove through the people milling about on the beach, but before she could make it back up the hill to the grass, Remus caught up with her.

He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Hermione! Merlin, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. She didn't say anything. Well, she may have said… but I didn't know it was you she meant.”

Hermione burst into tears, trying desperately to hide her face and not at all succeeding.

Remus glanced back down to the water, where Harry was throwing Teddy up in the air and letting him splash down into the water. He looked back at her and Hermione tried to wipe her face.

“Don't look at me. I'm just a stupid fool,” she said.

“Oh no!” Remus said. “You could never be,” he added. He fumbled in the pockets of his robes and withdrew a slightly tattered but clean handkerchief, which she took.

“Please sit,” he said. He tossed a second handkerchief down on the grass and waved his wand at it, transfiguring it into a much larger cloth, more like a picnic blanket. “Please,” he said.

She wasn't sure what else to do, so she sat.

“I'm so sorry, Hermione. I never would have said that if I'd known.”

“Obviously.” She rubbed her eyes again. “It never even occurred to me that you didn't know,” she said.

He shook his head. “I knew she was seeing someone, but...”

When he didn't continue, she felt more tears welling up. “Did she call me names? Make fun of me? I… I thought…” She felt like blubbering. This was so much worse than being ignored at Harry's wedding or being turned away on a bad day.

“No!” Remus exclaimed. “Nothing like that. She said she was seeing...” He grimaced slightly. “A young woman who was inexperienced, shall we say. I think she must have meant you.”

“A naive fool,” Hermione said bitterly. “A dumb twat.”

Remus pursed his lips. “No,” he said. “Hermione, you're misunderstanding, I think. I'm sure she cares about you.”

“She didn't even tell you about me!” Hermione accused. “I'm obviously nothing to her! And I… I...” She stopped herself before she could say more.

When Remus didn't immediately reply, Hermione felt tears stream down her cheeks again. “See!”

“No, it's not that,” he said. “I'm upset with Tonks. She obviously played with your emotions and she should know better.”

Hermione wiped her cheeks again and tried to stop the flow of tears. “I thought we were… I mean...” She couldn't bring herself to say love. She was in love with Tonks. She couldn't say it, not hearing this.

“Hermione, you should talk to her. Just because she's seeing someone else doesn't mean she doesn't love you as well. I don't know why she didn't mention to me that it was you she was seeing, or why she wasn't clear to you that she's seeing other people beyond you and me. But I can't speak for her.”

Remus reached out for her hand, raising his eyebrows in question and taking it when she nodded. He squeezed her palm and she felt how warm he was. It was positively hot out. “Take it from someone who has had his heart broken more times than I can count. You'll survive this no matter what. You're an incredibly strong young woman. And perhaps you get tired of hearing that, but it's absolutely true. You...”

A scream from the beach cut across Remus's words and both of them were on their feet immediately. Everyone came running up the beach and out of the water. 

As they both dashed down to the edge, Hermione could see a swarm of grindylows had invaded the beach. Harry had Teddy behind him at the edge and was stunning them one by one, which was very Harry, effective but completely inefficient, she thought. However, before she could do anything about it, Remus had already put his wand in the water and delivered a massive stunning spell to the whole lot of them. The movement all around the edge of the water ceased.

There were a few people still in the water. Hermione noted that there were a few young people several yards out. For a moment, everyone breathed a sigh of relief that the nuisance of the grindylows seemed to have passed. Then something strange happened. Just next to where the young people were floating in the water, trying to decide if they should swim through the stunned grindylows, the water moved.

A massive beast emerged, with a long neck and giant flippers. Its head was tiny, but its eyes were clearly visible. It went right for the swimmers left in the water and somehow – Hermione couldn't quite see how – it pulled them under.

“Fuck!” Harry swore.

All around them, people were crying out, but, Harry, as always, dove in without thinking.

“Oh good grief,” Hermione said. She fumbled for her wand and shot a bubble head charm at him before he could get too far, but then he was gone under the water.

The lifeguard apparently had gillyweed. Two more people also dove into the water. Remus cleared the grindylows, who had started to rouse, but retreated as Remus shot little lights at them into the water.

It felt like forever, but it was actually only a couple of minutes before Harry and the lifeguard emerged, each of them tugging a lifeless looking figure. At the edge of the water, people met them, an older witch declared that she was a healer, someone took photographs, and Harry finally managed to escape back to their cabana, which Hermione enlarged to accommodate Remus and Teddy and keep everyone else out while they all took a breath.

“Well, the lake beach was nice while it lasted,” Ginny suggested, once things had calmed down slightly.

“Did the monster try to eat you, Harry?” Teddy demanded from where he sat in his father's lap.

“Nah,” Harry said with a smile. “I knew he wouldn't. Pleisosaurs are vegetarians.”

“Harry, I don't think it was actually a pleisosaur,” Hermione reasoned. “It was probably magical?”

“What's a pleisosaur?” Ginny asked.

“A prehistoric animal. Muggle. Like a dinosaur but in the water,” Hermione explained.

“What's a dinosaur?” Ginny asked.

“Er… a bit like a dragon,” Harry said. “But extinct.”

“Some of the Slytherin students said they saw something large in the lake,” Remus said. “We all thought it was probably another squid.”

“Oh, Hagrid will love it,” Harry said. “Whatever it is.”

“Nessie,” Hermione said and Harry nodded vigorously. For some reason, that made Hermione laugh.

“Never a dull moment,” Ginny said.

“I like dull moments,” Neville suggested.

At that moment, though she didn't really want to admit it, Hermione was glad to have had the distraction.


	12. Just a Bit of Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading lots at once, so go back if you're reading along and unsure of your place.
> 
> Also, warning: angst ahead. I promise a happy ending by the end, though not necessarily what you want (just because I have no idea what you want, just sayin'.)

Tonks came to her before she could decide if she wanted to go to Tonks or perhaps just leave the wizarding world forever and hide her face in shame.

She showed up at Hermione's the night after the events at the lake. When Hermione opened the door and found her there, she stood in the entryway staring. Tonks and I have kissed here, she thought miserably.

“Teddy said it was a very exciting day,” Tonks suggested. “He had a lot to say about what an amazing godfather he has, though I did manage to realize that perhaps his amazing godfather might have drowned himself if his amazing best friend hadn't thrown a decent bubble head charm on him.”

“Harry would have figured it out,” she said. “He always does, somehow.” She stood in the doorway, still not moving.

“May I come in?” Tonks asked. She had on her torn muggle jeans and a tank top that stretched around her breasts and showed off the lines of her arms.

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“Come on, beautiful girl,” Tonks said.

Something in her exploded. “Don't call me that!” she yelled. “You come here and...” She lowered her voice, “...call me beautiful and expect everything to be just fine.”

Tonks's whole face fell, her eyes going from sparkling and bright to creased with weariness. “Hermione, I never meant to hurt you. Please, let us talk?”

Part of her wanted to either hex Tonks or slam the door on her, or possibly both. It was only thinking about her neighbors in the flats above and below that made her step back into the apartment so that Tonks could follow her inside.

“Remus told me you were distraught. Tell me why.”

She snorted in disbelief. “You made me into a fool. We've been carrying on like this for months and I was nothing to you.” She furrowed her brow and pulled out her wand, shooting a muffliato at the door to keep their argument inside. Then she retreated to the little bar at the edge of her small kitchen.

Tonks followed her. “Why would you say that?” Tonks said. “You're beautiful and smart and amazing. You're not nothing. You're always putting yourself down like that. I wish you'd stop.”

“This isn't about me. Or some… self-confidence issue,” Hermione yelled. “Stop trying to make it about me.”

“Well I don't know what it's about!” Tonks said. “I thought we were having fun. I'm working my wand arm off trying to get my career back after having to leave it for a baby I wasn't sure I wanted. And trying my hardest to be a good mum to a kid who is wonderful but, Merlin help us, a whole lot of energy and work. And trying to take care of a husband who is an emotional wreck half the time and a bloody werewolf curled up in my sitting room once a month. And you've been a bright spot in all that for the last few months.”

“A bright spot?” Hermione exclaimed. “What about your new lover?”

“He's a bright spot too!” Tonks said. “I'm allowed to have more than one good thing.”

“But you never told me about him,” Hermione said. She hated how her voice came out whinging.

“You never asked!” Tonks exclaimed. “I told you my marriage is open. I told you Remus and I are partners, but not lovers most of the time. I take other lovers.”

“But that's all we are. Just a fuck for you.”

“You're my friend too,” Tonks defended. “But that's all I have time for. All I have room for in my life. I can't take care of more people right now.”

“No one's asking you to take care of me!” Hermione said. “You might have let me take care of you! I would love to help you with Teddy, and with Remus, and with your career, and cook dinner with you and...” She broke off, upset with herself for using the present tense. It was over. She knew it was over. Her heart just couldn't take it.

“It was just a bit of fun,” Tonks said. “I never said otherwise.”

“You're the one who kept telling me to figure out what I wanted and stand up for it,” Hermione said. “What if I want more than fun. What if I want...” She trailed off, afraid to say all the things she wanted. Domesticity and partnership and motherhood.

Tonks looked nearly as distraught as Hermione felt. “I don't have room for those things,” she insisted quietly. “I can't right now.”

Hermione stared at her, trying to keep her emotions under control.

“Hermione, I really care about you,” Tonks said. “I love you. Please don't end it like this...”

“You don't love me!” Hermione yelled across the kitchen.

“I do,” Tonks insisted. “Just because...”

“Not like I love you!” Hermione yelled, cutting her off.

The words hung there between them for a moment before Hermione burst into tears. She could see that Tonks was also crying, her face turning splotchy red. It should have been one of the benefits to her coloring that her dark skin couldn't go all pink when she was upset, but she was convinced her snot showed worse. She flailed around for a tissue for a moment, before grabbed an unused dishrag.

For some reason, saying it made her feel strangely better, as if it had been a secret she needed to let loose into the world. All the fight, all her thought of hexes and slammed doors, everything just went out of her.

“I'm so sorry,” Tonks cried. “I really am, Hermione.”

“Oh, shut it,” Hermione said, though without much heat.

She couldn't stand there in the kitchen anymore, so she walked to the sitting room and sank onto the sofa, throwing her head back and looking up at the ceiling.

Tonks followed her, her own face streaked with tears. “I know I've messed up. I know I'm messed up. I'm not perfect, Hermione. I didn't do this right at all. I just wanted you and you seemed to want me too and… I didn't think about… I hate that I've made you feel this way.”

Hermione wiped her tears again.

“Can I sit?” Tonks whispered.

When Hermione nodded, Tonks joined her on the sofa. “Tell me what you want,” she said.

Hermione lifted her head. “To get married. To have children. To grow old with someone. All those stupid things.” She wiped more tears away.

“They're not stupid things! I wish I was that person for you,” Tonks said.

“I feel like such a fool.”

“You're not!” Tonks said, looking weepy again. “I'm a fool. You're fit and perfect and get me off like no one has in ages and you'll make beautiful babies and… I feel like a complete git.”

“You are,” Hermione said.

“Yes, I am,” Tonks agreed.

Hermione couldn't say why she did it. Part of her was furious with Tonks, part of her was heartbroken. But another part of her still just wanted. She leaned forward and kissed her, letting their tears mingle on their lips, a salty, bittersweet kiss.

Tonks kisssed her back, her hands ran through Hermione's shortened, spiky curls and cupped the back of her neck, bringing them closer together. It was a slow kiss, mouths and tongues moving together in slow harmony for long minutes, calming something deep inside her. Or maybe just distracting her from things she didn't want to face.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Tonks said, pulling back. “This doesn't change anything. I wish...”

“Shut up,” Hermione said. “You already hurt me.”

Tonks kissed her cheeks. “I would love to say goodbye.”

It was probably a monumentally bad decision, Hermione thought, but she nodded.

They went to the bedroom, where the bed was unmade and Hermione's swimsuit and beach clothes were on the levitating drying rack.

Everything felt so slow for some reason, as if the whole universe was down to a crawl. They kissed some more and Hermione didn't even try to hide that she was still a little bit weepy. But Tonks kept whispering, “May I?” and, “Can I?” and she kept nodding.

They undressed still standing. I know her body, Hermione thought, as she leaned to lick and suck her nipples then back up to kiss her neck. She knew just how to touch her body and how to rub and rub until Tonks was wet.

Eventually, she pulled out the purple dildo and used a lubricating charm and the sticking charm to put it on herself. She felt powerful with it on, and it was a shortcut to arousal, which she felt as Tonks ran fingers all over her, but didn't feel the urgency of. She wanted it to feel urgent and hard, to cut through the slowness.

She came as she thrust the dildo into Tonks, her hips moving in rhythm to rub her clit and tug on that delightful spot behind her clit just inside her vulva.

Afterwards, Tonks stood up from the bed and gathered her clothes.

“Wait,” Hermione said. “Just don't… don't ignore me. Don't act like it never happened.”

Tonks climbed back on the bed on her knees. Hermione wanted to memorize her face. Maybe she did care about looks, she thought suddenly, even more disappointed in herself. Tonks was so beautiful. Her pale olive skin, her wide hazel eyes, her round cheeks. She could look like anyone, but this was her, and it was the her that Hermione loved. She blinked back tears.

“I promise,” Tonks said, giving her a very light kiss.

Hermione turned her face to the pillow so she wouldn't have to watch her leave.


	13. One Sunday

“I'll be your date, but only if you come sit on the bride's side with me,” Neville suggested. “Poor Hannah. She's an only child. The only family she has other than her parents and grandmother is her uncle. He owns the Leaky Cauldron. It'll just be us and a bunch of Hufflepuffs overwhelmed by the sea of red-headed weirdo Weasleys.”

“Oi,” Ginny said, tossing a blade of grass she'd been fiddling with at Neville. It lengthened and wrapped itself around his head, causing him to have to shred through it.

“Nice,” Harry said.

“My wandless spells will catch up with yours,” Ginny said. “Just wait and see.”

Hermione sighed. They had gone to Neville's work at the Florndale Magical Botanic Gardens to see an exhibit of magical bonzai trees from Japan. It had been lovely and Ginny had teased Neville about how all his best friends were plants while Harry had just looked absurdly proud. When Harry had popped up to her office on Friday to ask her to come with them over the weekend, Hermione had pulled a face.

“You don't need to take pity on me,” she had complained.

“We like having you there,” Harry had defended.

“I feel like a third wheel,” she had said. “No, a fourth wheel? Honestly, Harry, you're making the saying make no sense.”

Harry had laughed about cars with four wheels and insisted. It was good to have Harry, she thought, and friends in general. She actually did have friends. Freddie had taken her out to lunch and they talked about arithmancy and astronomy and muggle novels. She had gone back to Parvati to get her hair seen to and remembered that she didn't actually dislike her old roommates, even if they had never been close. Luna was dating some creature-mad older man and had come around to ask her advice. She had her parents.

If it weren't for the fact that she missed Tonks so much, she might have thought her life was full and complete.

She picked at the grass and didn't look up. “Maybe I just won't go after all,” she announced.

Harry groaned. “Nope. Nope. You have to come.”

“I don't actually,” she said.

“Right then, just ignore my offer. I guess I'll have to go alone,” Neville said, looking very put upon. Harry sat up from where he'd been half lounging on the grass and practically tackled Neville with a kiss.

“I can't go alone. He's my brother,” Ginny complained. “Hermione, maybe you should be my date if they're going to do that.” Harry was now halfway in Neville's arms, leaning against his chest.

“Oh, stop it, you three,” Hermione said. “You're all insufferable.” She'd meant it to come out teasing, just like they were teasing her, but somehow it ended up sounding prim and sour. She scowled and got up from the grass, heading out of the tiny grove where they'd been hidden and into the main garden path.

Harry caught up with her as she walked past the singing tulips that were all still in bloom, humming along near the main entrance. Neville told them that some years they barely appeared or even didn't bloom at all. They were very picky about the weather and liked the heat. This year, with the warm summer they were having, they'd been out for nearly a month. It was long enough for everyone to be sick of them, apparently.

Before Harry could say anything, she apologized. “I'm sorry, Harry. I don't even mean it. I'm the one who's insufferable these days.”

“Mmm… mmm… yeah yeah,” the tulips sang.

“You're not. You couldn't be,” he insisted. They walked through the gate and out of the way of any prying eyes or singing flowers. “I can't pretend to know,” he said. “I thought I was in love with Cho back at school, but I think it was just a crush gone all wrong. And other than that, I've never had my heart broken. If you really don't want to go, you don't have to, I suppose.”

“I've got another month to figure it out,” she said. “By then, maybe this absurd heat wave will have broken.” They could still hear the hum of the tulips on the other side of the garden wall.

“Maybe. At the DMLE, we've had at least one owl a day with a letter about how some dark witch or wizard is causing the heat wave,” Harry said. “I've now checked out six different claims.”

“And?”

“It's just a hot summer,” he said.

“Good for tulips and lakes.”

“And Loch Ness monsters.”

Hermione smiled. “Yes, and for the Nessies of the world.”

“Remus said they're calling her Helga because Helga Hufflepuff had a whatever she is,” Harry said.

Hermione tried not to show emotion at the mention of Remus's name. She didn't think she'd ever manage to not be embarrassed if she saw Remus again, though it was more a question of when.

“I'm going to go to work,” she said.

“It's a Saturday!” Harry insisted.

“Go back to your wife and your Neville,” Hermione said. “You did your part for me.”

“You saw how beautiful the little trees that Neville brought from Japan were?” Harry said.

She smiled at his goofy grin. “Yes, he did a brilliant job.”

An hour later, having apparated back to London and gone up to her office, Hermione was engrossed in setting the spells for alerting the Ministry if there were any violations to the current magical property ordinances.

It was tricky spellwork and this was the first time she'd been trusted to oversee anything like it. It was hard not to get obsessed. These sorts of spells were the same kind that underpinned things like the Hogwarts rolls, that updated themselves with every magical birth in Britain, or the restrictions against underage wizardry. When done right, they made the wizarding world run. When done poorly, they made the wizarding world oppressive or capricious.

Hermione had her spellbooks out and was carefully carving out the runes. For several hours, she worked on the spellwork, trying to check her runes as she went, looking up things. This was such a tiny thing, but it felt like her first real challenge.

When she finally got to a stopping point, she set the books aside and carefully tidied everything up, checking, then rechecking the stasis spells before turning to leave the workshop.

That's when she found Winifred Birdwhistle watching her. Her boss had clearly been present for awhile and made herself at home. She was seated in one of the large, oversized, stuffed leather chairs that were outside the workshop. She had papers spread out at the wooden table. One of her feathered hats was next to her and her wand was up in her hair again.

“Miss Granger,” her boss said.

“Freddie, I...”

“Yes, yes, I have been trying to make you stop working on the week-ends,” Freddie said.

“I really have. It's just that this is terribly exciting. And, honestly, I didn't have anything to do that was more important than this,” Hermione tried to explain.

“More important than property law?” Freddie asked dryly.

“I know!” Hermione said. “I do know. But property law is important, right? Otherwise we wouldn't be doing this. And just doing it, I'm hoping that I have some ideas for the future. For the issues with the creatures act, for example, and I know your team is supposed to work on the transportation acts next.” Hermione smoothed out her robes and unthinkingly ran her hand to her hair, which was no longer bushy and pulled behind her headband, but was tidy and twisty and short.

“Hermione...” Freddie began.

“I know,” she repeated. “I know everyone thinks I'm a hopeless swot. But surely it's not a bad thing, right? You know, I really do like it here. I'm not just sucking up. And maybe things in my life aren't quite as I'd like, but one day maybe they will be and I'll be distracted by all the things that apparently I'm supposed to be distracted by now, like love affairs and weddings and having babies. Or maybe not. There's really noting wrong with making your work your life if you quite like it. And I do! The runes on that spell are incredibly complex. When the Department of Mysteries comes to check it over, I want it all to be just exactly perfect. Which is as it should be. Every large scale alert spell should be triple checked over.”

Winifred Birdwhistle stood up from her chair, which reminded Hermione how very tall she was. “Hermione, you...”

“I don't think I can take a scolding!” Hermione said, slightly desperate. “Not for doing my job. Or for loving ancient runes and complex magic. Legal magic is rather brilliant and I never would have understood any of it without you. So what if I am trying to distract myself from a broken heart. You're benefiting from it and you've nothing to complain about in my work!”

Freddie held out her hands in question. “Are you quite finished?”

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded.

“Perhaps it as escaped your notice, Hermione, but it is Sunday.”

Not sure what to make of this statement and a little bit worked up from her own rant, Hermione nodded.

“It is Sunday. I am here too, as you may have noticed.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, finally understanding.

“So, you see, you are not the only one who uses work to distract herself, young witch.” Freddie shook her head. “Come along then. We're the only ones here. We may as well appreciate things.”

Freddie whirled around, her fringed robes trailing behind her. She walked into her office, a large imposing space at the rear of the department, with heavy wooden cabinets carved with birds. From the doorway, Hermione watched her wave her wand at one cabinet, which popped open with a creak. Freddie withdrew a small bottle of amber gold liquid and two glasses. She kicked the cabinet closed with her heavily laced boot then walked past Hermione and toward the back of the workshop.

“Oh,” Hermione said, pausing. The room behind the workshop was in magical space, where the spellwork for the whole Ministry was written and supported on giant bulwarks. It was an odd place, where the tiny space the Ministry actually occupied in the muggle world was folded all in on itself and magical creatures and spells from the Ministry could float out into the ether and access the rest of the world. You didn't go in there.

“Come along,” Freddie said again. “No one here but us today.”

“But...”

“I thought you were a Gryffindor,” Freddie suggested in her deep voice.

Hermione sighed. This was probably why she was a Gryffindor. Anytime anyone suggested that she might be a coward, she barreled after them to prove them wrong. Still, Freddie was her boss, so she found herself stepping through the heavy door.

It was part of the tour for promotions after a certain level. They brought you in and told you, don't come in ever again. She knew Unspeakables accessed the space routinely, though she wasn't totally sure what for. A few months into her position at the Ministry, before she and Ron had broken things off, they'd tried to recruit her and she'd thought about it briefly. But life as an Unspeakable meant choosing to focus on things beyond the real world. She had decided, in the end, that she wanted to do real things and make a real difference that people could see. That she could see.

Freddie opened the door and they stepped through, into the space and onto the sort of balcony that sat over the ledge. Freddie went and leaned right on the edge of the railing, but Hermione found she had to hang back against the edge of the wall and the door, which looked real, as if they were standing in a painting or a film and only this wall was reality.

They stood in silence for a little bit before Freddie spoke. “It's a bit entrancing, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “It really is.” Her mother had a lava lamp when she was little and she'd watched it for a long time. This was a bit like that. All the spaces were always moving and folding, the spellwork made everything shift constantly. It was dizzying until it became mesmerizing.

A small flock of owls flew by, carrying messages. They darted into a window that disappeared behind a brick wall, that then yielded to a sort of cavern, where she could see tiny lights swirling.

Hermione kept watching as everything shifted. She watched the spellwork and the runes come by on their columns whenever things shifted so she could see them. She caught a glimpse of more owls and the odd image of a bowtruckle climbing the edge of a window. It was strangely peaceful.

“...a bit too long, you know.”

“Hmm?” she looked up. Freddie was standing quite close, her hand on Hermione's shoulder. 

“That's enough then,” Freddie announced. “Come along.”

Back in the Ministry, everything seemed so utterly mundane. “It's getting late,” Freddie announced. “You should tidy up for the evening.”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “How…?” She checked her watch. “How long were we in there?”

“Never do more than half an hour. The magic gets a bit intoxicating,” Freddie said.

Hermione shook her head. She felt disoriented. “Is it… safe?”

Freddie snorted. “It's never safe. Don't be silly.”

Hermione looked at the messy workroom with all her hard work. She would etch it onto one of those columns soon. It would make it so that property was safer from muggles and taxes were collected at a fair rate and magically hidden properties would reveal themselves and not go on haunting the muggle world.

“I know I've been telling you to go live your life,” Freddie said. “And you should. But there's nothing wrong with working hard. I daresay it's not appreciated enough. Come back as long as you're running toward the work and not away from anything.”

Hermione nodded. “It's… worth running towards,” she said. “I know it seems silly, but...”

“No one who could stand in that space for even a moment would think it's silly,” Freddie announced. “Good evening and good night, Hermione. I'll see you in the morning.”

Hermione packed up her things carefully. She tidied up the files and swept excess parchment into the trash. She took the elevator down to the first floor and walked through the great hall, past the fountains, which were overrun with toads this summer. She stood in the mostly empty hall, appreciating the space.

One of the DMLE guards watched her and she sighed. He probably wasn't suspicious. She didn't have to deal with anything like what Harry dealt with, but sometimes people watched her too. She had her own chocolate frog card and her name popped up in the society pages if she went somewhere. People watched.

She made her way to the apparition point and took two jumps to get all the way to Scotland. It was still twilight this far north. The summer heat wave was still in enough force that it was warm out, almost balmy despite the evening hour.

She followed the little path through the veil and went to scale the fence, before realizing that it was unnecessary. The big iron gates were open.

Hermione looked around in surprise. She waved her wand doing a spell as she stepped inside tentatively. The magic lit up all around her, the moss coming to life. There was no one there.

Taking another step inside, Hermione realized there was a large for sale sign up. “Hogsnock Baths. 1.84 acres. For Sale. Inquire at 28 and 1/6th Diagon Alley. Raven Realty.”

For a moment, she stood there, surprised. Had it only been less than a year before that Tonks had brought her here? She walked around, appreciating the decaying beauty of the buildings and letting the various magics come to life around her. It wasn't the same as the strangeness of the magic at the center of the Ministry, but it was also beautiful and entrancing.

“Magical bonzai, singing tulips, beautiful voids, magical waters,” Hermione said aloud. She laughed at herself, talking to no one in an abandoned health spa for witches. Yet she also didn't really care. It had been a long day, but it hadn't been a bad one. Darkness was setting around her and it felt strangely powerful and good to be alone.

Run towards things, Freddie had advised her. 

She stripped down and dipped herself into one of the pools. She sank in, letting the magical waters pool over her slowly until she submerged her head and came back up dripping with minerals.

Thinking of Tonks made her sad, but she was surprised to find that she didn't feel bitter. “I know myself better now,” she said aloud.

So she didn't have a date to Ron's wedding. It wasn't the end of the world. Two years before, she didn't understand what got her off or if she even wanted to get married. She didn't understand how to have her own flat or if magical law was really the right place for her. Now she knew all those things. Understanding things was always the best, most satisfying part of life. Knowing that there were more things to understand made her feel happy too. There was always more to know in the wizarding world.

She leaned on the side of the pool and floated her feet to the top of the water, letting the warm magic work through her and make her content.


	14. Wedding Dance

“How dare you say you're not really my date,” Neville teased. “We Floo'ed in together. We're sitting here together...” He gestured at the row of seats close to the altar where the bride and groom would soon appear.

“Stop being absurd,” Hermione chided, but she was relieved that it came out relaxed. The wedding was surprisingly relaxed, she noted, nothing like the overdone affair that Harry and Ginny's ceremony had been. It was nothing but an open tent at the edge of Ottery St. Catchpole, with cheerful fall greenery decorating an altar and the edges of rows of seating. There wasn't a bride's side after all, which was a relief. Neville had insisted that he'd have them sit there because he was probably Hannah's friend more than Ron's, but the couple had seemed to realize that it would have just led to a very uneven audience. They were surrounded by redheads and freckles.

“Me? Absurd?”

“Were you always like this?” Hermione asked, giggling. “I don't remember you like this at Hogwarts, Nev.”

Neville shrugged. “Hardly. It's Harry or Ginny or Harry and Ginny. It's like… if we didn't tease each other we'd actually fight. So everything is a contest, except it's all a joke. Or maybe it's all real. I don't know.”

“Does it ever get tiring?”

Neville shrugged, his expression turning at least slightly serious for the first time since their arrival. “Maybe sometimes. I have a greenhouse for that. Harry has work. Ginny has her broom.”

Hermione stretched out her legs in front of her. She had finally given in and gotten witches' shoes, which looked absurdly elaborate with laces and chunky heels. They looked almost gothic. She had been dreading them and it wasn't until they were fitted on her feet that she realized they were charmed to feel like wearing nothing at all. Overall, she was happy with her whole look for the wedding for once. Ginny had talked her into a dress that looked like old fashioned overalls on top with a sort of tailored jacket to go with it. It was nothing like the lacy things that were in the shop windows on Diagon, but Hermione finally felt suited to something and didn't feel that weird sense of guilt that sometimes accompanied spending time on clothes.

She hooked her arm around Neville's and smiled at him. “It would make me batty if I had to live with the three of you.”

He grinned back.

“Oh, hello, Neville. Hermione.” George stood at the edge of the row where they'd just sat down. He looked down at them with a funny, evaluating look. “Did you come together?”

“Neville was just trying to convince me that he's my date,” Hermione laughed. “He said we're both gay and I've been trying to explain that's not how that works but he won't stop teasing me.”

“Oh,” George said. “Er…”

“We're just friends,” Neville said. Hermione could feel the tension in his body as he withdrew his arm from hers.

There was a muffled crying sound from behind the tent that made several of the guests turn and look.

“Everything all right back there?” Hermione asked.

“Oh yeah,” George said. “Mum's just weeping like a baby and Hannah's stopped everything to deal with it. She's a bit too nice, that one. Ron really lucked out, I… Well, I mean...” He looked at them uncomfortably.

“They're going to be perfect together,” Hermione said, trying to offer up a genuine smile.

From behind the tent, Hermione heard another muffled cry. George turned toward it too, then sighed. “Um, spread the word that we'll start soon. Mum just needs to get presentable so she can walk Ron down the aisle. Weddings just make her overly emotional.”

Once he'd left, Hermione asked under her breath, “What was that all about?”

“Weasleys make me nervous,” Neville admitted. “Percy threatened me twice, Bill keeps coming to dinner and asking why I'm still there as if I'm a pesky roommate who won't leave, George keeps giving me these odd looks. I know… we're in an odd relationship. It's just… well. We're in it, yeah? Leave off.”

Hermione nodded and squeezed his arm. “They all look at me like I'm the one who left Ron,” she whispered.

“We can just avoid them together,” Neville suggested. “Except the future mother of my children,” he added. “She's on the up and up.”

Hermione laughed. She turned to pass on the word among the other assembled guests. In addition to the Weasleys, she could see most of the other students from their year scattered behind them. Parvati and Lavender were there, Lavender looking assembled and pretty, but very serious, as she always seemed to these days. She saw Susan Bones and some of the other Hufflepuffs. 

Padma was sitting with Leanne and Ginny's friend Eloise. When she saw Hermione looking around, she gave a small wave. Hermione smiled back, relieved that Padma was finally seeing her in something she actually felt confident wearing, instead of in the midst of trying to right terrible hair or dealing with a new haircut or recently rejected and about to cry in the middle of the street. Padma herself had on a tailored jacket over loose trousers.

“Hey,” Hermione said, leaning back a row toward where Padma was sitting. “George says the wedding will start soon. Mrs. Weasley is just a little overemotional. We're supposed to sit tight. Will you pass it along?”

Padma nodded. “Sure. Of course.”

Half an hour later, with the guests increasingly restless, the slightly disorganized wedding finally began and Hermione found herself surprisingly cheerful watching it. Harry and Ginny looked beautiful in green dress robes with the rest of the wedding party. Tiny Victoire Weasley wandered down the aisle with a bundle of greenery, humming a different tune than the music being played by charmed instruments at the front of the tent. Hannah's white lacy dress had more greenery woven into the trail and even Neville looked impressed.

“She's good with herbology,” he whispered to Hermione, as if this were the primary mark of a brilliant person.

Ron looked like he was going to throw up, but Hermione knew that meant he was happy and she nearly giggled when she realized it.

They all witnessed the plighting of the troth and the rest of the ceremony together. Ron looked vaguely shocked when Hannah kissed him, going from wide eyed to a little too keen on the kiss and Hermione had to refrain from snorting about it. It was so quintessentially Ron to be surprised by the exact same ritual that everyone else did happening at his own wedding.

Any mixed feelings she had about the wedding strangely evaporated at attending it. It had been a month since her breakup with Tonks and the pain of it had dulled to a small ache. She was happy to see Ron happy and her own anger at him over things that had gone wrong with them was mostly faded.

After the ceremony, Arthur Weasley waved the chairs aside, creating tables and a platform for dancing. It was old fashioned country dancing, with everyone changing partners and moving in lines and circles. Hermione watched, slightly fascinated, as all the Weasleys and cousins seemed to know all the moves.

“I have no idea how to do that,” Hermione observed as everyone clapped in a line and couples took turns twirling down the middle.

“Oh, er, I can show you a little,” Neville said. “I remember from when I was little. Gran would drag me to weddings and things that had dancing. I'm a bit hopeless at it though.”

Hermione shook her head. “Let's drink cocktails and eat whatever that is on the buffet instead,” she suggested.

The food was comfortingly home cooked and recognizable as having come from the Leaky Cauldron. “Hannah told me if she hadn't let her uncle cater, she'd have been in trouble,” Neville confided. They ate and Hermione enjoyed Neville's mild teasing, as well as saying hello to everyone from their year at Hogwarts and all of Ron and Harry's DMLE colleagues.

Eventually, she was left alone as Neville went to dance with Ginny and then with Hannah. There was something lovely and comfortable about the wedding. Unlike at Harry's wedding, where she wanted to hide out from the crowds, she found she was happy to sit by herself and watch everyone dancing and drinking.

“Er… hullo,” said a voice behind her.

Hermione looked up to see Ron, who had somehow sneaked up on her. His dress robes were now slightly askew, presumably from dancing, and he held a plate with sliced roast from the buffet.

“Ron,” she said. “Congratulations.”

He looked so unsure that she laughed, which obviously took him by surprise. “For goodness sakes, it's your wedding,” she declared. “Stop looking like that. Do you want to sit?”

Ron made an indistinct sound. “I can't quite believe it,” he said, but he sat.

“You look very happy together,” Hermione ventured.

“Er… yeah.” There was a deep blush on Ron's face that made Hermione feel very fond. He was happy. “How have you… I mean… we haven't really seen each other lately, have we? How have you been?”

Hermione didn't think she'd seen him since Harry's wedding, and that was months before. It was funny to think that he had no idea what was going on with her. “Rather miserable, actually.”

He looked so stricken that she had to laugh. “Ron, it's fine. I'm fine. I just...” she sighed. “Had a bit of a break up.”

“Oh!” He looked immediately brighter, but then dashed the look quickly. “That's great. Or, no, I mean, I'm sorry!” He turned bright red.

Now Hermione couldn't hold back her laugh. “Good to know you can still put your foot right in it,” she said.

“It's a gift,” Ron said. “Who…?”

“Not important,” Hermione said. “It's over. She and I just had very different goals.”

Ron's red eyebrows rose halfway up his forehead. Hermione sighed and looked up, feeling mildly embarrassed for both of them. This was probably not the right place for this whole conversation. In the background, the music was still playing at a slightly loud volume and there was the hubbub of guests and dancing. “Ron, you should see your face.”

“I… er… I'm just… Merlin… sorry, 'Mione, I'm just happy that you… if that's… I mean, if you're happy, then I'm… not happy to be breaking up, but...”

“Yes, Ron, I'm happy,” she said, finding that she meant it.

“Bloody hell,” Ron swore. “You and Harry both… I mean...”

She laughed. “It just took me a bit longer than Harry to figure it all out.” She watched his face. “I know you and Harry haven't exactly seen eye to eye about… things.”

Ron shook his head. “It's just rough, yeah? When your new brother in law is having it off with someone else regularly. I know it's none of my business and Gin obviously is… just as mad as the two of them. It's just taken some adjustment.” He shrugged. “He and I made it up I think.” He sat up straighter in his folding chair. “I wouldn't want you to think I didn't support you and… Gee, Hermione, I still think the world of you. I love you to death, you know.”

“Maybe don't say that with Hannah around.”

Ron made a dismissive pshaw. “Nah, she knows how I feel. You wouldn't believe her, Hermione. She's got more love and understanding… I mean, she loves everyone. In a platonic kind of way, I mean, but also real genuine. She's the nicest person who ever... I'm so bloody lucky...”

Hermione smiled. “All right then.”

“And you'll find someone. Or lots of someones? I don't know how this works.”

She shook her head. “One someone is more than enough for me, I think. I don't know how Harry manages that.”

“See!” Ron said. “See! I mean… well, none of my business.”

She nodded and watched as Ron suddenly surged out of his seat and pulled her into a shocking hug. “I missed you,” he said. “I was so relieved you'd come.”

As he released her, she nodded. “Me too.”

Ron looked at his plate of roast, seeming to rediscover it with verve. He asked about her parents, and her work and told her about his and about helping Hannah at the Leaky Cauldron. After a moment, Hannah came up, accompanied by Neville. She stood behind her new husband and rested her chin on his head.

“You know you're not required to eat a full meal all over again every time you sit down with someone,” Hannah teased him.

“Just being polite to our guests,” Ron defended, his mouth filled with potatoes and roast.

“I made a fool of myself on the dance floor and I feel you should be forced to join me,” Neville suggested, nudging Hermione.

“Oh, Nev, I don't know,” she said. The music began to shift from the lively tunes of earlier to a slower waltzing melody.

“Finish eating that and you can spin me around for a slow dance,” Hannah suggested to Ron, who nodded, shoving in final bites.

At that moment, Parvati suddenly appeared at their table. “You,” she snipped, pointing to Hermione.

“What?” Hermione said, surprised. Everyone paused, looking at her. Parvati had on a pretty pale purple dress made from Indian silks with yellow embroidery. Her makeup charms and jewelry were as perfectly accessorized as ever.

“Um… me?” Hermione asked.

Parvati rolled her eyes. “For goodness sakes, would you go ask my sister to dance? She's driving me utterly mad. If I have to hear one more bloody word about you from her, I swear...”

“Vati,” Padma's voice suddenly hissed from an adjacent table. “Morgan's tits! I'm going to hex you so hard it'll take a dozen St. Mungo's cursebreakers a year to unravel them all!”

“Whatever,” Parvati said. “It's just Hermione.” She waved her hand at Hermione, as if to suggest that obviously anything involving her couldn't possibly be important, much less embarrassing. “Your hair looks good,” she added. “But if you'd use more Wild Witch's Wonderful Brew on it, it would be perfect.”

“Vati!” Padma hissed again.

Ron and Hannah were blatantly looking at Padma, two tables over from them. Neville kicked Hermione under their table.

She felt acutely embarrassed for Padma for a moment, so much so that she had trouble looking over at her, even as Parvati shrugged and walked off. But then she suddenly thought about Padma's pretty elfin haircut and her stylish trousers and her pale brown skin and she found herself looking down at the table feeling a swirl of other emotions running through her gut.

Neville kicked her again and she kicked back with her witches shoes with the clunky heels. “Ouch,” he said.

Then she thought, this is not at all embarrassing. I'm a Gryffindor. A pretty girl wants to dance with me. Because she really was a pretty girl. Hermione felt warm and bold.

She kicked Neville back one more time for good measure and then looked up, smiling.

“Hey, Padma,” she called. “I have no idea how to dance. Neville said he was going to show me, but he's apparently really terrible at it too.”

“Hey!” Neville said.

“Mate, that's fair. I saw you out there,” Ron said.

“Maybe,” Hermione continued, “you could show me?” She stood up and smoothed out her dress.

“Um… sure,” Padma said, her voice almost a squeak.

By the time she got to Padma's table, Padma had worked herself out of her chair and was standing up, half leaning on the table. “You don't have to,” she whispered. “Vati was just being… she's just teasing me, really.”

“Maybe I want to,” Hermione said quietly.

Padma bit her lip and extended her hand. It was warm and light in Hermione's as they walked to the dance floor. They passed Harry, who raised his eyebrows and grinned at her from where he was slowly stepping in time with the music with Ginny, his arm around her in a loose embrace.

To think she hadn't wanted to come without a date, she thought, suddenly slightly giddy. I've done this before, Hermione thought of Tonks and Tonks's hands and lips. But this was so totally different. It was so public, so open. Everything with Tonks had been so clandestine. She'd thought that was part of the fun, or maybe that romance was something she liked being secret. Suddenly, Hermione thought, no, this is so much better. But that implied there was something here in the first place. It was just a dance. She felt her cheeks burn as if they'd already been dancing and working up a sweat.

“Here,” Padma said. “Like this. I'll lead.”

Hermione nodded, and then, as the music hit a slightly more lively note, they were off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for anyone who stuck with this! One more chapter that's a bit of an epilogue.


	15. Settled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a little epilogue. Sorry it took so long to get around to it.

Hermione had always thought of herself as an early riser, but when she rolled over, she was, yet again, all alone. Work, she thought, but no, it was the weekend and for once she wasn't going in.

She rolled out of bed and dodged around the boxes that were still on the floor. For a moment, she paused, her hand lightly on her wand in the pocket of her pyjamas. It was so hard to leave things for later sometimes. She sighed and managed to make her way out.

“Tea for you,” a voice called.

Hermione paused. The shelves in the living room were now completely filled. Volumes of all sizes showed off their multicolored spines in perfect order.

“I know, I know,” Padma said, walking in from the kitchen with a cup of tea and a saucer, a little spoon stirring itself and adding cubes of sugar. “We said we'd do the books later, but… I couldn't help myself.”

“But…” Hermione grimaced, making herself not complain.

“Don't worry,” Padma added. “They're completely organized.”

“Using the Hogwarts catalog system or...”

“Nope, all my own,” Padma said. “Magically indexed, like we discussed.”

“No,” Hermione said, taking the tea only to set it immediately on the table. She ran her fingers along the spines on one shelf and they all made a whisper as she touched them. “You didn't have time.”

“May have been working on it a bit before we moved in,” Padma said. “After all, we got the flat for the books. May as well do it right.”

“Morgan's toes, I love you,” Hermione gushed, turning back to her.

Padma was already dressed, wearing her long trousers and a flowing button shirt. Hermione stepped back toward her and leaned in, then pulled back. “I haven't brushed my teeth yet...”

“Oh, quiet,” Padma said, with a laugh. She leaned forward and captured Hermione's lips in a kiss.

There were these moments, Hermione thought, where she felt so beyond happy with Padma that it seemed impossible. With Ron, she'd always felt so overwhelmed and frustrated. With Tonks, she had felt like she was swept up in a grand passion, always carried away. With Padma, everything was so much quieter and slower. At first, she had worried that they didn't really have a spark. Now, a year on, she worried about it a lot less.

Padma kept up kissing her, just planting small presses of her lips to Hermione's mouth and cheeks. Up close, Hermione could see the warm brown of her skin, the sleek black of her hair dangling by her ears, and a flash of gold stud where her nose was pieced. Padma clearly had brushed her teeth and eaten breakfast as well. Hermione could taste the marmalade.

This is my girlfriend, Hermione thought with a contented sigh. No, she was more now. A year on and she was a partner. They had real estate, their names on a lease together. It was funny. She'd had the same with Ron, but somehow she hadn't thought a thing of it. When she and Padma had signed the lease together, she'd felt a rush of togetherness that was completely unexpected.

And now they were here, in their flat, where their book collections were co-mingling on the shelves.

“What are all those?” Hermione asked, spying a stack of books in a large box.

“Duplicates,” Padma said. “Want to go back to bed?” Her mouth pressed more little kisses to Hermione's earlobe and she leaned in and began to suck lightly.

“I just got up. We have a party later...”

“Exactly,” Padma said. “You can't hold your alcohol and I know my sister is going to get me drunk. Logically, we should have sex now.”

Hermione hummed. She wasn't exactly in the mood, but she wasn't exactly not either. There was something about that state of when you were first awake that seemed filled with possibilities of all kinds, both unpacking and sex.

“Actually, logically, we shouldn't go to bed. We've already done the bed. We have to break in the sofa. Or the kitchen floor.” Padma's kisses paused. “No, too adventurous. Save that for a late night. Or surviving mortal danger. But the sofa, definitely the sofa. We can make love in front of the books.”

Hermione couldn't suppress a giggle. “Some of those are children's books.”

“I know. It's scandalous!” Padma's hands wrapped around her, stroking up and down her back.

They did end up on the sofa, lips kissing lazily, fingers wandering until pants were off and both of them were half clothed.

Padma climbed on top of her and kept nipping at random spots all over Hermione – her bottom lip, her neck, the side of her breast where she'd rucked her shirt up over it, her earlobe. She was especially fond of Hermione's earlobes, sucking on them, nipping at them, even idly running her finger over the soft skin of them sometimes when they were sitting together reading. Now she bit lightly and sucked alternately as her fingers worked their way down between Hermione's legs.

Hermione let out a happy sigh and wrapped her hand around her girlfriend's arse, squeezing and pinching her lightly. “Are you planning to have sex with my ear or does my cunt get to play too?” she teased.

“Cheeky,” Padma whispered, her breath warm against Hermione's ear. But she slipped her fingers lower and carded them through her pubic hair then along her labia, teasing at her entrance. “More teasing or...”

“No, I'm ready,” Hermione said. “Just get me off.”

“So sexy. Just get me off.” Padma mocked, but she stroked a finger inside, gathering wetness and brought it back up to rub circles around Hermione's clit.

Hermione let her eyes flutter shut and pressed back into the sofa cushion. She lifted her hips involuntarily, chasing Padma's soft fingers, wanting her to rub more. Padma's other hand joined in and Hermione felt her crouch on her knees. She let her hand slide from her hip and gripped tightly as Padma kept rubbing insistently at her clit while she thrust in two fingers and curled them up.

Hermione's hips didn't fall back down. She squeezed Padma's hip, squeezed her internal muscles, tightened her breath and let it hitch inside for a moment.

“Yeah,” Padma whispered. “Oh, yeah, Mione. Let it go.”

And then she did. Her breath blew out in a rush, her hips fell back down, her fingers loosened, and she pulsed around Padma's fingers, her muscles squeezing and then releasing into a sweet pleasure.

“Stay there,” Padma said, as she withdrew her hands. Hermione didn't want to move anyway.

She climbed up the sofa and straddled Hermione's face. “This all right?”

Hermione chuckled. “I think...” She squirmed down so that Padma could even reach her mouth. “Ambitious.”

“Breaking things in,” Padma said again.

Hermione couldn't have come in that position, not with her knees bent below her, but Padma seemed to have a special delight in having an orgasm while looking down at Hermione. She was so quiet and slightly awkward out in the world, but so bold during sex. It had taken a few times before Hermione had realized that her girlfriend was a whole different person in bed, but when she had, she had liked it. Of course she wanted to get off crouched over Hermione's mouth, hand on the wall holding herself up, using her.

It wouldn't even take that long. Hermione could hear the hitch in her breath the moment she reached out with her tongue.

This is my girlfriend, she thought, gripping Padma's arse again and using her fingers to squeeze and then scratch and finally to just rub lightly at her hole, all while using her tongue with broad strokes across Padma's clit. Part of Hermione wanted to push her down and put her fingers in her, or better yet, fuck her with the strap on. But penetration, for Padma, wasn't something for casual, fast morning sex. It was something she worked up to. Still, thinking about it had Hermione happy. She ground her tongue against her. Padma moaned and pushed against her face just a little too hard.

For a moment, Hermione worried that they'd have to start over because there was really only so long a person could go without air, even in the name of getting her girlfriend off, but then Padma cried out and eased back, scooting so she could fall into Hermione's lap and rest her head against the side of the sofa.

Hermione stroked her thighs lightly, just waiting, waking up the rest of the way.

“I think I can have the books done by the time people come,” Padma said.

“You're amazing. But get up.”

“So you can check my organization system?”

“So I can brush my teeth. Now they really need it,” Hermione said.

Padma laughed and stood up, looking for her pants. “Now that we broke in the sofa, we could go back to bed...”

“Party!” Hermione said, heading for the bathroom.

Padma laughed. “Hey, Hermione,” she called.

“Mm?” Hermione paused on her way to the sink.

“Our books are co-mingling. We'll never get them properly separated.”

Hermione paused. This was it. She had a girlfriend her parents loved, who loved her, who loved books. They shared a home. They supported each other's careers. Maybe, just maybe, they would have children. She spared a thought for Ginny, newly pregnant. Settled. She was settled. It was scary, but also overwhelmingly comforting and warm.

“I guess we're stuck together then,” Hermione said.

“Quite.” Padma's grin lit up their new sitting room.


End file.
